


Chemical

by lokilickedme



Category: Loki (MCU) - Fandom, Native American/First Nations Mythology, Norse Religion & Lore, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Abstinence, Aftercare, Aggression, Alcohol, Alpha Female, Alpha Males, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry!Tom, Assault, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Seduction, Attempted Sex, Attempted Sexual Assault, Backstory, Bathing/Washing, Biting, Blood, Bondage and Discipline, Broken Families, Bruises, Claiming, Claiming Bites, Collars, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Confrontations, Consensual Kink, Consensual Nonconsent, Daddy Issues, Dark Past, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face Slapping, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fever, Fist Fights, Friendship/Love, Honeymoon, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury Recovery, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Love/Hate, Major Illness, Marijuana, Master/Slave, Mental Coercion, Mental Health Issues, Mild Blood, Mild Painplay, Nurturing, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Past Sexual Abuse, Play Fighting, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Protection, Recovery, Recreational Drug Use, Road Trips, Romance, Rough Body Play, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Roughness, Scent Marking, Scratching, Seizures, Self-Defense, Sexual Violence, Sexuality, Shocking Revelations, Spanking, Submission, Taken From Behind, Tenderness, Threats of Violence, Trust Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violent Sex, aggressive!Tom, arousal from injury, brief mention of cutting scars, brief reference to past underage sex, collaring, depictions of dream rape, depictions of dream violence, dom!Tom, emotional distress, forced abstinence, minor underage drinking, minor underage recreational drug use, orgasm from pain, random Loki references, referenced alpha behavior, simulated sexual attack, wolfkink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 58
Words: 263,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say we're all just one step up from animals.  Sometimes we devolve just enough to be more like them than we're comfortable with...</p><p>When Tom met Anja, they didn't like each other.  At least they pretended like they didn't - she belonged to someone else, a someone else who just happened to be a friend of Tom's.  But when fate intervenes and tragedy changes things beyond their control, they find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other in a primal, almost animalistic way that neither of them has any desire to resist.</p><p>I highly recommend reading the tags - this story has everything ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

  

"You're aroused."

"What?"

"You're aroused."  He sniffed again, leaning slightly toward me.  "Intensely."

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"I can smell you.  It's rather intense, I'm surprised you're not aware of it.  Or are you and you're just playing coy with me?"

"Get away from me."

"It's natural darling - our species is trying to propagate.  Let me guess, this is the week before your period."

I stared at him, not sure if I should stab him or just knee him in the groin and walk away.

"You are so disturbing."

He laughed that laugh that identified him as Tom; even if he was in the next room or on the other side of a noisy pub I always knew it was him when I heard that laugh.

Ugh he got on my nerves.

But I got on his too, so a few years back we had called fair game on each other.  Torture and torment and ceaseless sass.  It was fun, but neither of us would ever admit it.

A mutual friend of his was a mutual friend with a mutual friend of mine, which put us near each other on a regular basis.  But we didn't consider ourselves friends - we just turned up in a lot of the same places with a lot of the same people  - not to mention he tended bar at the pub we all hung out at after work.  He was Chris's weird friend, I was Kady's bitch buddy.  We picked at each other every time our paths crossed, although he could be nice - _very_ nice - when it suited him.  But damn he could be strange, and his unsettling turquoise eyes made me nervous.

"You should let me mark you with my scent so the other alphas in here don't try to claim you."

"What the hell, Tom?  Seriously?  Fuck off."

He threw his head back and laughed again.  "That's the whole idea, love - propagation, remember?"  He crept closer, nudging his chin against my shoulder as he edged his nose into my hair, next to my ear.  I could feel his breath on my neck.  "It's the nature of the species.  Pair up, mate, reproduce.  And the pheremones you're putting off right now are an open notice to every walking cock in here that you're ripe."

I'd heard enough.  He was grossing me out, but worse, I was feeling creepily aroused by his voice and the subject matter.  I shoved my shoulder against him, bumping his chin hard to get him away from me.

"Perv."

He was snickering, obviously enjoying my revulsion.  "Think about it, Anja.  I'll be washing glasses if you change your mind."

He went back behind the bar and threw a towel over his shoulder, grinning at me.  I tried not to look at him but it wasn't easy; damn him, he was a sexy beast, but I really didn't like him.  Not my type, not by any stretch of the imagination.  Long black hair, thin face, sharp cheekbones, freakishly tall and sort of skinny, a little bit pale...the first time I saw him I'd told Kady he looked like he should be sleeping hanging upside down in the basement.  She thought he was cute and the idea of him being a vampire had instantly become sort of a fetish for her after my cruel evaluation of his looks.  I secretly hoped they wouldn't get together, but I had no idea why.

I took my drink and went to the back, where he couldn't see me.  I didn't want his unsettling eyes on me anymore.  Another of our mutuals, Eric, was there and waved me over.  He was handsome and charming and a welcome diversion from creepy Tom, so I joined him at his noisy table and tried not to think too much about his hand sliding up my thigh and his hungry eyes on my breasts.

 

When I left the pub later that night, Eric walked out with me.  I wasn't taking him home, but I'm sure to everyone in the pub it looked that way. Tom's eyes followed us, the look on his face neutral as he wiped the bar, but there was something disapproving in the way he watched us.  I glanced toward him as Eric pushed the door open and saw him shake his head, just barely; so slight, in fact, that I thought I must have imagined it. Our table in the back shouted goodnight to us and we slipped out into the cold night air, Eric's hand coming possessively to the back of my neck as the door fell shut behind us.

 

Telling him goodnight a few seconds later didn't go so well.  Goodnight wasn't what he wanted to hear, and in a space of time so short that I have no real comprehension of how long it actually was, I found myself grabbed harshly and shoved up against the wall of the building next to the pub.  

"You don't get to say no after that," Eric growled against my throat, where his hand was squeezing in a decidedly menacing grip that I had no hope of prying off.  

"After what??"  

"After teasing me like that - after getting me hard like this."  He grabbed my hand and shoved it down against the front of his pants.  He was stiff and hot and I tried to yank my hand away, but he held me tight.

"I didn't do anything to you.  Get off me Eric!"  I shoved hard against him and managed to put just enough space between us to bring my knee up, making contact with his groin.  I'm not strong by any means, but I know where to hit to make the most of what I do have.

He grunted and bent double for a second, cursing me.  In that brief moment while I decided whether to go back into the pub or wait and see if he had sobered up enough to be harmless, he stood back up and gave me a heart-withering glare that said _you're going to regret that._

"You fucking cunt."

And then my vision exploded in a blinding spray of white lights that splashed across my periphery, blotting out everything else but the nauseating pain as his knuckles made contact with my cheekbone.

 

I didn't see what happened next, but I heard it.  Eric grunted in pain and crashed to the sidewalk with that stomach turning sound that bodies make when they hit the ground; there was a scuffling of boots and the sound of trashcans being knocked over.  My eyes cleared just enough for me to make out the shape of a tall, dark man drawing back his foot and kicking him in the ribs.  Not just once, but several times.  And then a deep, menacing voice giving a warning that left no room for misinterpretation.

_"Don't you ever fucking touch her again."_

The pain in my face was starting to throb so intensely that I sank to the sidewalk and leaned back against the building, suddenly dizzy and feeling like I would pass out.  I felt hands on both sides of my neck and a voice telling me to look at him; I obeyed, and through stinging watering eyes I saw Tom.

"Can you walk?"

I nodded, but it was a lie.  I could barely see and my head was spinning - no, there was definitely no way I could walk.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Are you hurt anywhere?"

My hand went to my eye; the pain really was getting violent.  "No, just this."

His arm slipped round my waist and he pulled me up slowly.  "I'll take you in through the back.  There's a room you can rest in."

I thought I would make it, but we'd gone less than a dozen steps when I stumbled.  He lifted me easily and carried me the rest of the way.

"I told you the other alphas would give you trouble tonight," he scolded me.  "You should have listened."

 

The room was dimly lit but warm and blissfully _not_ the alley.  Tom stood me on my feet and moved a stack of beer crates from an armchair so I could sit.  I sank into the chair, my hand over my eye.  God it hurt.

"Convenient thing about getting punched at a pub - plenty of ice available."  He opened the big cooler and dug out a handful of icecubes, wrapping them in a towel.  "Move your hand sweetheart."

I reluctantly removed my hand from my face and he gently pressed the cold towel to my cheek.  It was unbearable for a few moments until my bruising skin got used to the pressure.  "Keep that there, it'll help with the swelling."

"It's swelling?!  Dammit, I have to go to work in the morning.  Is it going to be bad?"

He lifted the towel briefly and frowned.  "Afraid so."  

There was a soft knock at the door and he left for a few minutes, coming straight back to me when he returned and crouching in front of me.  "How's it feeling?"

"Ugh."  I felt something tickle my upper lip and touched it.  My fingers came away bloody.  "Oh what the hell?!  He didn't hit me in the nose!"

Tom moved the cold towel from my cheek to my nose to sop the blood.  "It's okay.  It's just a natural reaction to any kind of trauma to the face."  He leaned forward, hovering over me for a moment, and I realized with a distinct chill of weird-vibe that he was sniffing me again.

"Are you sniffing my blood?"

His eyes snapped open and he just stared at me.  For a moment he didn't really look like himself - or rather, he looked like himself but not quite the Tom I was used to seeing.  This Tom looked capable of biting, or possibly snaking his tongue out to lick the dripping blood from the little trough leading from my nose to my lip.

"Sorry."

"This is one of those alpha things you've been on about all night, isn't it."

He moved away and sat down heavily, drawing his breath in deeply and slowly.  

"We're all wolves, darling.  We just like to pretend we're more civilized than wild animals."  He leaned in close and gave me an unwavering stare.   _"We're not."_  He gestured toward my bruised cheekbone.  "This will make it even worse for you now."  

"This?  It's just a bruise."

"No, it's an outward sign of weakness.  It tells every male who sees you now that you're injured, you're weak, you'd be all that much easier to claim, you need to be taken care of.  It excites our primal instincts to overpower - you're an easy target, at least based on perception.  And if a male realizes he can't mate with you, he'll still exhibit aggressive behavior toward you."  He leaned back again.  "Thus the violence you just experienced."

I stared at him.  "You were that weird kid in junior high that was obsessed with wolves, weren't you."

He laughed and his face melted into a sweet smile.  "I'm a bartender, I've had a lot of time to study human beings.  We're not so human as we're trained to believe."

"Are you not an alpha?  I notice you're not having any trouble refraining from mauling me."

He grinned, holding my gaze brazenly.

"I have a respectable level of self control.   _Also_ gained from studying humans."

"What about Eric?"

He bristled a bit at the mention of him.

"What about him?"

"Are we leaving him out there?"

"He's been taken care of."

"Oh well that doesn't sound ominous at all.  Taken care of?  What does that mean?"

"It means Chris put him in a cab while I was out front just now."

I stared at the floor between us.  "You kicked him.  That was a pretty impressive rescue."

"He would have raped you."

I looked up and his eyes were intent on my face.  I felt shocked at his words - up till that moment I hadn't even thought about the implications of mine and Eric's interaction on the sidewalk.  But he was right, and I felt embarrassed that I'd taken such a foolish risk.  Eric was in our group of friends, I never considered the fact that he might try to drunkenly attack me.  Not seriously.  But he had.

"Shit.  Thank you Tom."

He looked angry for a moment and I knew he was holding himself back from telling me off.  I trust people, especially people in our extended group.  I didn't know Eric that well, but had assumed our membership in the same set of buddies granted me a level of safety with him.  Obviously I was wrong.

"You should go home.  Straight home, no stopping anywhere, no interacting with anyone.  I meant what I said, Anja.  Your scent is strong and every male in sniffing distance is going to be affected by you, whether they realize it or not."  He stood up and held his hand out to me.  "Some males are affected more strongly than others.  Like him."  He nodded his head toward the door.  

I looked at his hand but didn't take it.

"And what about you?  Are you not affected by me?"

What happened next sent a rush of heat and moisture to that place between my legs that we try to ignore until we have no choice but to pay attention to it.  Tom's eyes darkened, his pupils dilating to cover the turquoise of his irises completely; his nostrils twitched and his jaw clenched. The hand he had extended to me trembled, just for a moment, before he balled it up into a fist and let it drop to his side.

"Go home Anja."

 

I did as I was told, even though I had a horribly uncomfortable desire to stay with Tom.  Something about him sniffing me, the way his eyes went almost black with some weird primal desire thing that I didn't understand, the way he controlled himself despite his obvious discomfort...the disturbingly dominant vibe that he put off...why hadn't I noticed that before?

And more importantly...why was it affecting me this way when I didn't even _like_ him.

 

When I got home I locked the house and climbed into bed without showering.  I knew I'd regret it in the morning, but I was tired and I suppose a bit of mild PTSD was setting in the more I thought about what had almost happened.  God, being raped by Eric.  Not on my list of to-do's.  I turned on my rain app and let the soothing storm sounds lull me to sleep.

I started dreaming almost immediately; at least it felt like a dream, though I was uncomfortably aware that I was in it.  Eric was there, shoving me into the alley behind the pub, tearing at my clothes and threatening me, overpowering me easily...knocking me to the filthy concrete while he stood over me, looking down at me with twisted desire marring his handsome face while he opened his pants and showed me what he was going to do to me.

And then a dark shadow fell over him, darker even than the blackened alley, blocking out the moonlight.  A flurry of movement that my eyes could barely perceive.  The sound of boots on pavement.

A dark figure came from nowhere, taking Eric from behind.  In a heartbeat it was on him, ripping his throat out with its teeth, Eric's blood spurting in a steaming blackened spray in the darkness.  

 _I should be screaming,_ I thought. _I should be running._  But all I could do was sit there on the cold pavement, watching as this shadowy something took my attacker down right in front of me.  So close that when he fell, Eric's hand bumped my foot.

I stared at it.  It wasn't moving.  An ominous black puddle was spreading toward me. 

I looked up.

_Tom._

Tom was standing over Eric's still body, his face covered in blood.  It was pouring from his mouth, dripping off his chin, dribbling down his chest in rivulets that ran to his stomach where they were finally soaked up by the front of his jeans.  The entire crotch was black with it.  He was breathing hard, his face contorted in a mask of fierce primitive bloodlust that didn't appear to be sated by the taste of Eric's blood.

He was staring at me, panting like an animal, his intent obvious.

"No, Tom..."

He advanced on me, his movements fluid, like an animal stalking prey.  He stopped when he was close, dipping his head low and inhaling deeply, his nostrils flaring as he took in my scent.  Then his eyes flew open and his face twisted in anger.

_"You smell like him.  His scent is all over you!"_

A dark smile claimed his mouth right before he hurled himself at me, ripping at my clothes, biting and snarling as he bent me forward and forced me onto my hands and knees, his hot breath burning my skin as he hissed _"You are mine - I can see that I'm going to have to mark you so that you don't forget it."_

His hands were hot and rough as they shoved my skirt up and yanked my panties down.  I screamed his name over and over, but I wasn't sure if I was begging him not to hurt me or imploring him not to stop.  I felt him against me, the heat radiating off him like an inferno against the backs of my thighs and bottom, and then his engorged cock shoved into me so violently that I screamed in agony; his teeth were on the back of my neck, biting down hard, breaking the skin, forcing me to submit as he marked me, spurting his own scent into me and across my back, forcing me to turn and swallow him so that his pheremones would mix with my own.

By the time he was done with me, I knew I wouldn't be forgetting who I belonged to.

 

I woke up a sobbing mess, my face wet with tears and my hands between my legs, one trying to protect myself, the other drenched with my own come.

 

"What's up girly?"

I tried to act nonchalant, but I felt genuinely messed up.  That dream was screwing with my head and, despite the little voice telling me to stay away from Tom, I went to the pub anyway.  I needed to see him, if for nothing else than to thank him for looking after me.   _Rescuing_ me.  That sounded silly and romantic, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that was exactly what he'd done.

"Nothing.  I'm good."  I flinched a little when he leaned across the bar to get a closer look at my bruised cheekbone.  My eye was swollen and turning black as well.  He shook his head but didn't say anything about it.

"You've been side-eyeing me ever since you walked in.  Did you have a bad dream about me?"

My head jerked up and I stared at him in shock.  "What makes you think that?"

He grinned and started putting cheese and chips on a plate.

"Because you've got the look of a woman who's had a disturbing dream about a guy whose relationship to her is ambiguous.  Do you like me, do you hate me, are you indifferent to me, do you want to fuck me? You're confused about what exactly we are to each other so your mind is trying to make some sense of it, in the context of what happened the other night."

I tried to remain noncommittal.  "Okay."

He grinned and I tried unsuccessfully not to look at him.

"Did I howl at you?"

"Howl?  Um...no.  No, you didn't howl."  Not that I could recall, anyway...or maybe he had, but how would I know?  My own screams had drowned out almost everything else.

"Did I bite you?"

I flinched again.  "Yeah, there was biting."  I closed my eyes for a second to drive out the picture in my head of Eric with his throat ripped out.

"Where?  On the back of the neck?"

"What?"

"Did I bite you on the back of the neck?"  He was moving around behind the bar, heating things in the microwave, putting a plate of food together.  I was getting distracted watching him.  He moved very gracefully, for someone so tall and long-limbed.

"Uh, yes, yes you did.  Why?  Is that important?"

He smiled, laughing a little.  "Darling, the back of the neck is where male wolves bite females during mating.  It's a show of dominance and keeps the female in submission during copulation."  

I felt a flush coming up my neck, making my ears go hot.  Yeah, that was definitely how it had gone down.  I decided it was time to change the subject.

"What are you doing?"

He popped some cheese into his mouth as he was arranging things on the plate.  "I'm putting together something for you to eat.  You don't look like you feel too well."  He slid the plate over in front of me and wiped his hands on the towel over his shoulder.  "There you go girl, eat up."

 

He went on about his business while I ate in silence, tending to the other customers till he went off duty about a half hour later.  When he was off the clock he grabbed his coat from the hook and came around the bar to sit beside me.

"So tell me about this dream where I bit your scruff."

I finished my glass of water and raised an eyebrow at him.  "What's scruff?"

His hand came up to the back of my neck, up under my hair, his fingers brushing lightly against my skin for a moment before giving me a firm squeeze.  "Back of the neck.  Dominance, submission, all that Discovery Channel stuff.  Or HBO, depending on the species."

I picked up my coat and purse from the stool next to me and turned to him.  "Not here.  Too noisy."

His eyes were intent on mine as he removed his hand from my neck and took my coat from my hands, standing to hold it open for me.  "Let me walk you home?"  I nodded and he smiled, and for the first time I noticed how undeniably _wolfish_ his grin was.

Against my better judgement, I walked out with him.

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

"So how did you know it was about wolves?"  We were walking beside each other, not touching, huddled down into our coats against the cold night air.

"What?"

"My dream.  I didn't tell you what it was about, you just suddenly asked if you'd howled at me."  I glanced over at him.  "How did you know?"

Tom pulled his face out of his scarf and looked at me with a half amused expression.

"I just assumed it would be, since that was what we'd talked about that night."

I didn't say anything;  I could see frosty fog coming from his mouth and argued with myself for a minute over whether or not I was actually finding him attractive or if it was just the fact that he'd rescued me and then fed me.  I dare any woman to not feel funny between the thighs when a guy does both, even when he's not her type.

"What are you thinking, girl?"

I hated it when he called me that.  Girl, girly, he'd even called me girlybits once, but in his defense he _was_ drunk that night.  He'd called me bitch pudding more than once too, which I found just slightly less annoying than _girl,_ but at least with that one I knew what he thought of me at the moment.   _Girl_   had a disturbingly vague possibility of going many different ways.

"I dunno.  Sort of emptyheaded at the moment.  You?"

He was looking at me, but it was dark so his expression wasn't clear.  "Just wondering if maybe you'd see your way clear to allow me to sleep with you tonight."

I hung back a couple of steps till he stopped and turned to look back at me.

"Seriously?"

His face broke into a wide grin, his foggy breath billowing around his face like satan materializing through the mists of hell.  "What?  You mean you haven't thought about it once in all the time we've actively disliked each other?"

"Well...no, actually I haven't."

He put his hand over his heart.  "Ouch!"

I had to laugh.  "Sorry dude, I just...no."

He was laughing that self-assured laugh of his, obviously not the least bit hurt that I didn't think of him that way.  "Please tell me you don't," I begged, inwardly shuddering at the thought of him having _those_ kinds of thoughts about me.

"Don't what?"

"Think about it."

He held his arm out, motioning for me to catch up.  When I did, he hugged my shoulders, tugging me into his side as we walked.  "At least once a month," he teased, letting go of me and slipping his hand up to the back of my neck.  He gave it a squeeze and I shivered, but it wasn't from the cold.  No, this had nothing to do with my skin reacting to the surrounding temperature.  This was somewhere _inside_ my skin.  I wasn't sure I liked it, especially when he lowered his head so that his face was near my shoulder and I heard him inhale deeply, his fingers squeezing tighter as he did.

"Geez Tom, are you sniffing me again?"  I pushed him away and started walking quickly.  "What is with that weirdness?  And how do you know when I'm expecting my period?!   _I_   don't even know when I'm expecting my period!!"  I stopped and turned back to glare at him. "Do you break into my house and look at my calendar, you sick perv?"

He was grinning again, that infuriating grin that completely discounted everything I was ranting about.  

"I told you.  I can smell it."

"Pheremones, yeah.  But you're not supposed to be aware of them, they're just there, invisible or whatever."  I waved my hands around, aware that I was sounding a little bit more crazed with every word.  "How is it you know exactly what's going on with mine?"

He sauntered along at his regular pace, not concerned with catching up to me, his hands jammed into his coat pockets and that wolfish grin making his face look dangerous and boyish at the same time.  "I told you that, too.  Your scent is strong."  I stopped walking and he was suddenly right there, towering over me, looking down with a menacing twist to that grin.  "Why do you think Eric attacked you?"

I craned my neck to look up at him without backing up.  "Because Eric can be a creep when he's drunk."

"Eric's always been a creep and you've seen him drunk many times.  Has he ever done that to you before?"

I thought about it.  No, he hadn't.

Tom didn't wait for me to answer.

"He's never tried to rape you before, drunk or not.  Has he ever given any indication that he'd become violent with you if you turned him down?"

No, again.  Eric was generally a decent guy.  His behavior that night had been a huge surprise to me.

"No."

Tom nodded his head with a condescending look.  "He acted like that because he could smell you too, only he didn't understand it.  All he knew was that you made him feel aggressive, and when you rejected him, he was enraged.  You dared to refuse to submit to his dominance."  He reached up to pull his scarf over his mouth and nose again, shivering.  "His next reaction would have been to rape you, and I guarantee you it would have happened."

He was right.  "I know," I said quietly.  "Thank you for stopping him.  I couldn't have...there's no way I could have gotten away from him."

He smiled behind his scarf - I could see his eyes crinkle up.

"Why are you covering your face?"

"It's cold."

"Yeah, but it's not _that_ cold."  I reached up and slowly tugged his scarf down, uncovering his nose and mouth.  He didn't stop me.  "Are you trying not to smell me?"

He didn't answer, but I could tell by the way his eyes closed slowly and he inhaled long and deep that he was catching my scent again.  When he opened his eyes, they were dark.

"We need to hurry," he said, putting an arm around my shoulders to usher me along.

"Why's that?"

"Because you'll start your bleed in the next two days and we need to mate before then.  Propagation, and all that."

"Oh my god you are such a freak.  Stop with predicting my period, that creeps me out."  I hit him in the ribs, but with his thick coat and my puffy gloves, there wasn't much force on impact.  "Besides, I get some say in whether or not we 'mate', don't I?"

He gave me a sideways look, one eyebrow cocked, a look that wordlessly screamed _Yeah right, dream on baby._ But he smiled and hooked a long arm around my neck, tugging me against him while we walked. "Sure you do, bitch pudding.  I'll be sure and get your say right as I'm about to sink into you."

 

We stood on the steps outside my house, shivering, his coat opened and wrapped around me so that I was against his tee shirt.  I'd never really paid any attention to how he was built before, other than turning my nose up and declaring him too skinny.  But now that I was this close to him, with nothing but a thin bit of well-worn cotton between us, it was becoming obvious to me that he was anything but skinny.  Slim, yes, but there was a hard layer of muscle over everything that I could feel.  I slipped my arms around him inside the coat and pulled him closer.

"So...are you going to invite me in, girl?"

I looked up at him, digging my chin into the middle of his chest.  "That's a vampire thing, isn't it?  Having to be invited in?  I told Kady the first time I saw you that you had to be a vampire."

He rolled his eyes and lowered his head, catching my lips against his to shut me up.  "You call _me_ weird," he murmured against my lips.  "Now invite me in or I'll invite myself."

I let him kiss me; I didn't even protest when the kiss deepened and he slid his big hands down to my bottom, giving me a hard squeeze that tugged me up against him.  I could feel that he was getting hard and amazingly it didn't repulse me.

"Convince me," I ordered him.  He pulled his head away for just a moment, then something in his eyes flickered and took on a _challenge accepted_   expression.

He sank to his knees in front of me, his hands gripping my hips tightly as he pressed his face against the front of my jeans.  He dipped his head lower and pushed his mouth and nose between my legs, inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with my scent.  I could tell by the moan that escaped his lips at the same time his fingers tightened almost painfully on my hipbones that he was becoming very aroused.

I also knew that I wasn't going to reject him when he asked me to let him take me to bed.

I conceded defeat.

"Would you like to come in?"

 

There were no niceties, no polite _make yourself at home,_ no offers of coffee or something to eat; there was just us, pulling at each other's clothes, stumbling toward the bedroom, a mess of hungry lips and greedy hands and starving bodies.  Talking was limited to grunts and moans and the occasional yelp when his teeth nipped too hard, and when we finally made it to the bed I was surprised we hadn't done each other any bodily harm.  Yet.

He pushed me onto the bed without any ceremony and crawled over me till he was completely covering me with his body.  My clothes were gone, littering the floor somewhere between the front door and where we lay, and I didn't even know where his had gone.  But he felt so perfect pressing down on me, his warm lips sucking and kissing me everywhere, his big warm hands sliding down to push my legs apart while his long, strong fingers nudged into me.  I moaned and lifted my hips to make it easier for him.   

"Turn around sweetheart.  I want to enter you from behind."

I obeyed without thinking about it, turning over and putting my back to him.  He enveloped me in his long arms and pulled me back against him; our bodies melded together, my bottom against his hips, his stomach against my back, my head under his chin.  I had thought the huge difference in our sizes would have made for a sloppy mismatched coupling, but we fit surprisingly well.  I sighed and relaxed against him.  It felt nice.

"I want you to know that I won't hurt you," he whispered against my hair.  "Do you believe me?"

"Yes."

He stroked my arm with his long fingers.  "Good.  You're safe with me."

I turned my face so that I could see him.  "You aren't going to do anything weird, are you?"

He grinned in between the kisses he was planting across the back of my shoulder.  "Define weird."

I pushed back against him but quickly realized that as a deterrent, my choice of actions hadn't been very well thought out.  I felt him stiffen harder against my bottom and he immediately shifted so that his cock slipped between my thighs.  The tightening grip of his hands on my upper arms signaled that playtime was over.  When I could speak again, my voice sounded very different, small and...submissive.

"Are you going to claim me?"

He kissed the top of my head and closed his arms tighter around me.  "I already have."

 

He pushed into me, burying himself so far inside me on the first thrust that it took my breath away.  It didn't hurt, but entering me from behind as he was, the angle made him hit me deeper and I couldn't stop myself from crying out.  He pushed me forward slightly, putting a hand on the back of my neck to hold me still, the other hand on my hip to steady me as he thrust quickly and deeply.  It was a blind, lustful, desperately  _needful_ coupling that made me lose my self control until I was crying and moaning and begging him not to stop, to take me harder, faster, deeper...and when he slipped his hand from my hip to push in between my thighs and stroke my clit, I came so embarrassingly fast that it took me completely by surprise.  So deep and hard and _fulfilling_ that I didn't even notice he was finishing inside me at the same time. I was just lost to it all.

His fingers kept stroking me even though I was done.  I tried to pull away from them but he wouldn't let me move, and when I squirmed uncomfortably to try to break contact he pulled me back against him and I felt something...weird.

His teeth on the back of my neck.

 _"Be still,"_   he growled against my skin.

I obeyed, whimpering in discomfort as his fingers kept stroking me.  He was still inside me, and every few seconds I felt my inner muscles clench gently, dispelling the last of the delightful aftershocks from my orgasm.  Each time, his breath caught in his throat, and his teeth bit down harder on my tender skin.  

I couldn't move.

But perhaps more disturbing was the realization that I didn't want to.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

I melted against him, giving up, just letting him do whatever he wanted with me, knowing in my heart and in my stomach that I wasn't going to object to any of it.  My clit felt painfully overstimulated, but as he continued to stroke it in gentle little circles it started to feel good, and soon I was getting wet and aroused all over again.  He knew what he was doing.  He was still inside me, moving me by my hips every now and then to keep himself stimulated, and when I began slickening up I could feel him re-stiffening.

"Sit up, girl," he whispered against my ear.  "Come on."  He sat up behind me and pulled me up by the arm, urging me up onto my knees as he got situated.

He sat me on his lap straddling him.  Slipping his arms around me, he tugged me up close so that I could rub my pussy against his stomach, which I did happily;  his hands went round to my bottom and stroked my cheeks, pulling them apart and rubbing in between them, sucking at my nipples at the same time.  Everything felt _sooo fucking good..._ and then I felt him push a finger into my ass, taking me by surprise.

"Ouch Tom, ow ow," I whined, pulling my head up to look him in the face.  I thought if he saw my distress he'd stop, but he didn't.

"Shhhh," he hushed me, thrusting his finger in and out slowly while I pushed myself against his chest, trying to get away from his hand.  "Be still sweetie."

I tried to obey, but it hurt a little and I wasn't sure I liked it.  

"Tom... _ow."_  I tried to lift up but he held me down with his other hand.

"I need you to stop moving, Anja.  The more you squirm the more uncomfortable this will be for you."

"It hurts," I whined, laying my forehead against his neck.  "Please stop."  A warmth was spreading through my stomach, soaking my thighs.  I hoped he wouldn't listen to me.  My brain and my body weren't on cohesive terms and at that moment I felt like he knew better than me what I wanted.  What I _needed._

"I'm afraid I can't do that, girly," he whispered.  The hand that was holding me down by the hip let go and started stroking my back in long, soothing rubs.

"Why not?"  I tried to settle, but every time he pushed his finger back into me I tensed up.  I wasn't used to this, and giving him control was making me nervous...nervous, but excited.  The thrill of the new.

"I need to stretch you.  It'll be okay, don't worry.  I'll take good care of you."

I felt all weird and panicky at the words _stretch you_ but I bit my lip and tried to relax, pushing it out of my mind.  He'd promised me he wouldn't hurt me.  I believed him.

He bent his head to kiss me on the lips, pushing them apart with his tongue and moving his quickly into my mouth.  For about the tenth time I felt mildly overwhelmed by the dominant vibe he exuded - I'd never noticed it before, but now that I was in his arms it seemed that everything about him just oozed _alpha male._

I sat as still as I could while his finger explored my bottom, slipping in and out of my hole, dipping down to my folds from time to time to bring some of the slick wetness back to make it easier.  He wasn't being rough, just a little bit controlling, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why I was allowing it.  I wasn't one of those women who submitted easily.  But so far I'd done everything he'd told me and I'd allowed him total freedom with my body.  It confused me, but it was delicious and felt dangerous at the same time.

"Why do you need to stretch me?" I finally asked, my voice breathless, my stomach feeling a little queasy.  What he was doing with my bottom had finally started to feel good and I was a little lightheaded from it. Before I was finished asking he slipped a second finger in, and my last two words came out as a gasping yelp.  He broke into a grin as he ran his tongue down the side of my face.

"Because I'm going to fuck you in the ass, bitch pudding."

My first thought was _why am I not kicking him out, like, fifteen minutes ago._ But that second finger was sliding in and out with the first and heaven help me, it felt good.  A little bit of a burning sting, but I could deal with that.  I gritted my teeth and pushed down on his hand.

"There you go girly.  Help me out here.  We'll have this hole marked in no time."

I groaned, pushing down harder, gasping when I felt his fingers go in past the second knuckle.  The sting made my eyes water but I chewed my lip and kept going.

Wait.   _Marked?_

"What does that mean?"

"Hmm?"

"Marked.  You said you're going to mark this hole.  What's that even mean?"

He started to nudge a third finger against my already strained opening and I whimpered, expecting it to hurt.  He was kissing my throat tenderly, licking and sucking at the skin over my pulsepoint, comforting me while his fingers plundered and probed.  "I've already marked your cunt - I spilled my seed inside you there - " He reached down with his other hand to gently press against my folds - "Now I have three more places to mark you."  He moved his mouth down to my breast, teasing my nipple with his tongue till I moaned, then nipping it with his teeth just hard enough to make me hiss. "Once I've done that you'll be mine."

His words didn't make much sense to me but his voice was making me wetter.   _Mine?_  I felt stupidly weak and willing to just say 'yes master' and let him go about his business...his strange hold over me was disturbing but I couldn't make myself not like it.  But as my foggy brain tried to soak up the meaning of his words, the math suddenly hit me as being off.

"Three more?"

He chuckled darkly.  "Yes, three."  His lips moved up to my collarbone, where he sucked until a purple bruise started to form.  I inwardly chastised myself for not setting a 'no visible marks' rule, but it suddenly seemed silly in light of the fact that neither of us had set _any_ boundaries, of any kind.  Somehow I didn't think he had any.  

His hand that was stroking my folds moved back to my bottom and slapped me lightly on the cheek.  "Second marking - in this sweet little ass. Once I've got you sufficiently stretched and able to take me, we'll take care of that."  He patted me lovingly and then brought his hand up to my face.  "Third marking."  He slipped a fingertip into my mouth.  "Into your belly to mix with your body chemicals.  We'll make our own unique set of pheremones, that everyone else will be able to smell."  

I was feeling very lightheaded now.  I had at least two more fuckings coming before the night was up.  

"And lastly," he slid his hand down to my stomach.   _Oh god please don't say you're going to knock me up.  If you mention puppies I swear you're out of here._ "Your skin."  He dragged his warm tongue across my shoulder, leaving a damp trail that made me shiver when he lightly blew on it.  "I'll let you choose where you take it."

That third finger pressing at my behind found its way in and I hissed in blissful discomfort.  It was getting to where pain felt good and the idea scared me a little.  He seemed to know what I was thinking and slipped his fingers out, lifting me off his lap and shushing me when I whimpered in disappointment at the removal of the delicious pressure in my backside.  "You're getting used to it quickly, baby girl," he praised me as he laid me down.  "Now turn over on your stomach for me."

I obeyed without hesitation, rolling over onto my stomach, and let him lift my hips so that my bottom was elevated.  He slipped a pillow under my hips and ran his hands down my back, softly kneading my cheeks when he got to my bottom.  I sighed happily, listening to him tell me to relax, promising that he wouldn't hurt me.  

"Tom," I whispered, my face half buried in the pillows.  He stroked gently up my back, caressing my skin with his fingers.  

"Yes girly."

"I haven't done this before."

"I know."

He knelt over my back, his hips against my rear, and kissed me on the back of the neck.  I tensed a little, knowing he would bite me to keep me still... _a show of dominance, keeps the female in submission during copulation,_ he had told me _._ He nudged his fingers into my pussy, wetting them, then slid them back and lubed my other hole with the juices.  I heard him groan, followed by a slick wet-skin sound, and knew he was rubbing it into his cock as well.

_"I'll take care of you, sweetheart."_

He nipped me a little on the nape of my neck and I flinched; while I was distracted, he put his cock against my asshole and pushed it in.

I threw my head back and it hit his shoulder.  I didn't scream, but my lungs couldn't take in any air and I panted desperately, panicking for a moment while he stroked my sides, telling me to stay calm, take shallow breaths, relax my muscles.  He lay still against my back, his weight holding me down.  I calmed immediately when I realized he was in me already.

"Oh god," I gasped, pushing my face into the pillow.  

He kissed my neck, my shoulders.  "Don't be scared, Anja," he reassured me.  "It won't take me long."

He took my right arm and pulled it gently around behind my back, lacing his fingers with mine, pressing the back of my hand against my spine at the small of my back.  "This will help you stay still," he whispered as he bent down and kissed the inside of my elbow.  He held my hand tightly as he began pushing into me.

I closed my eyes and groaned into the pillow.  It hurt, but the pain was exquisite...no, it wasn't so much _pain_ as it was a burning, filling sensation, one I hadn't experienced before, and my body grew accustomed to it quickly as he slowly thrust against me, his one hand on my hip and the other holding my own hand against my back, squeezing my fingers gently.  

When he came inside me less than a dozen strokes later, and I felt him convulse against my back and empty into me, I found myself pushing my hips up, wanting more.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

I laid on my stomach with him resting against my back, panting, feeling him tremble just slightly on me as he slowly pulled out.

"Fuck, girl..."  He pressed his forehead to my shoulder, warming my skin with his hot breath.  "Are you alright?"

I wasn't sure what to say;  I was alright, yes, but what he'd just done had awakened something in me and I felt like I was going to cry if I didn't get something, anything, to soothe me.  But I didn't know what it was.  

"I'm okay."  

He moved to my side and pushed at my shoulder until I rolled over onto my side facing him.

"That didn't sound very convincing."  He traced the line of my arm from my wrist to my elbow with his fingers, gently, his eyes holding mine.  "Now tell me again."

I closed my eyes.  "I'm fine...I'm just...I feel weird."  I looked deep in his eyes, noticing for the first time how pretty they were.  "I need something."

The corners of his mouth tugged up just a bit.  "That's a new kind of desire, baby girl...you haven't felt it before and you don't know what to do with it."

The sudden transformation of the word he'd always used as an insult into a pet name made me feel strange.  I wasn't the type to be called such sweet things, and he didn't seem the type to even _be_ with my type. In the morning I would pin my hair up neatly and wrap myself in a tweed suit and leather pumps and snag my briefcase by the door on my way out, while he would probably sleep late, eat some cereal, watch a little TV and then go unlock the pub for the lunch crowd.  What the hell were we doing here together?

I could only answer that with _how have we not found ourselves here sooner..._

Had there ever been a sideways glance, a longing look, a stray brush of a hand across a shoulder that either of us had missed?  I couldn't think of once, not even a single time, that we'd been remotely civil to one another without at the very least a heavy dose of sarcasm being involved.  Mostly we were just in the same place at the same time.  When we interacted, it could only be termed jovially hostile, at best.  I couldn't have missed anything that would have led us here, into my bed, sexing each other up with a frighteningly reckless abandon that reeked of bad choices neither of us seemed to care about.

But aside from that, as confusing as it all was, his words confused me more.  A new kind of desire?  What did that even mean?  It certainly felt unfamiliar, but how could it be new...?  

He must have sensed my questions, because I'm fairly certain I didn't ask them out loud.  He was kind of spooky that way.  He slid his hand down my back and patted my bottom.  "You're loaded up with strange hormones right now.  Our pheremones are mixing, making a new scent...one that will tell everyone you've been claimed.  And you're feeling it."  He let his fingertips dance slowly across the small of my back. "Intoxicating, isn't it?"

I closed my eyes tight and bit back a frustrated groan as his fingers kept teasing across my back.  I wasn't sure intoxicating was the word I would have chosen.  I wanted something, _needed_ something, and he wasn't giving it to me.  Just strange talk about hormones.  The desperation in the pit of my stomach was gnawing at me relentlessly.

"You need to rest," he whispered, like he'd read my mind.

"I don't want to rest.  I want - "

I didn't want to say the rest of it, because this was _Tom_ \- Tom, who I didn't like, who called me stupid names, who annoyed me and wasn't my type and looked scary and...who had kicked the shit out of Eric for me, who had just marked me twice, and who was in the process of claiming me, whatever that meant.

"What do you want, Anja."

I sat up and climbed over on top of him, rubbing myself on his stomach as he rolled onto his back and settled his big hands on my thighs.

"I want you.  In me, I don't care where, just as far and deep as you can get."

His eyes went dark and I felt him stiffen again, his cock coming up to press against my rear as I rocked on him.  He pressed his palm against my stomach and let it slide down till he was touching between my legs with his long fingers.

"If you come, you'll feel better."  

I nodded, grinding hard on him, suddenly feeling desperate.  I realized my bottom ached, but somehow the little bit of pain made everything else that much sweeter.  His voice started teasing me as I closed my eyes and moaned, close to tears.  

"Do you want to come, girly?  Hmm?"  He pressed a finger up under me till he found my opening and pushed it in.  "Do you want me to help you get what you need?"  He curled that finger, rubbing hard on me from the inside. I fell forward, supporting myself against his chest with my hands.

"Yes," I whimpered.  "Put your cock in me, Tom - _please."_

He laughed quietly; I could feel his stomach going up and down under me.  "Oh no baby girl, that's going in your mouth. Two more markings, remember?"

I pulled my head up and looked at him.  "Then do it.  Now.  Put it in my mouth."

He kept rubbing, and I felt his cock stiffen more; I moved back till it was grinding against my ass and reached around behind me to hold it in place, tight against my heated crevice.  He sucked in his breath and sat up under me, grabbing my hips to force me to be still.  His mouth came down on my clavicle and he dug his teeth into the bone, getting my attention.  He reached around behind me and grabbed my wrist to remove my hand from him.

"Stop it, girl - I told you, that's for your mouth."

I groaned, suddenly feeling too hot, too uncomfortable, too needy.

"Then FUCK. MY. MOUTH."

He grabbed my hair and tugged it, not hard enough to hurt, but definitely enough to yank my head back and make me listen.  "I said no - you need to come, and then you need to rest.  If we keep going at this rate I'm going to hurt you."  He let go of my hair and kissed my throat.  "You have to go to work tomorrow, do you really want to be tired and sore and sick from fucking all night without a break?"  He laid back down and pulled me down on top of him, moving his hand from my head to my bottom.  His other hand was still between my legs, and he resumed stroking me.  "Now lie still or I'll spank your ass."

"Oooh, that sounds - "

"No, it doesn't.  I don't spank for fun.  If my hand hits your ass you're going to cry - now stop squirming."  

I obeyed, even though lying still for Tom was about the last thing I ever would have guessed I'd find myself doing.  I was nestled comfortably on top of him, another thing I wouldn't have thought possible, but he was surprisingly easy to snuggle to despite all the hard lines and angles and lack of body fat.  But I was uncomfortable on the inside, so anxious and taut and burning with that strange feverish need, and he seemed to know it.  

His right hand stroked me slowly up and down the back of my thigh, gliding up over my bottom to squeeze gently before rubbing light circles into the small of my back.  It was soothing and I relaxed against him while his other hand gradually began stroking more firmly between my legs.  It wasn't long before he had me moaning into his chest, trying to be still as his fingers conjured an unbearably sweet tension that soon boiled over and exploded all through me, ripping a cry from my throat that left me hoarse and shaking against him while he stroked me through it, his voice whispering quietly to me so that I had to hush to hear him.

"There you go, baby girl.  Now you can sleep a bit."

I started to protest; that heat in the pit of my stomach was still there, burning hotter if anything.  "I'm still so hot inside," I whined, pressing against him, trying to cajole him into taking me again.  He laid his hand over my face till I closed my eyes.

"Take a nap, Anja.  I'll wake you up in a little while."

 

I don't know how long I slept, but once I closed my eyes I dropped into a fitful sleep full of disturbing dreams.  I couldn't remember any of them, but when I woke to the comforting sensation of Tom's fingertips brushing lightly over my eyelids, what little memory I had of the dark images fluttered away quickly.

"Wake up baby girl.  Time to finish this," he said quietly, sliding out from under me to sit up; he looked back at me over his shoulder as I reached up to press my hand against his shoulderblade.  He was burning up too.  

"Why are we so hot?"  I asked, fascinated by the temperature of his skin.  I put my other hand on my stomach and found it even warmer than when I'd gone to sleep.  He didn't answer, standing up and turning so that he was facing me, reaching down to take me by the hips and pull me toward the edge of the bed till I was sitting in front of him.  My face was level with his stomach and I tilted my head to look up at him.

"We'll start to cool down after this," he said quietly, his big hands stroking the sides of my neck.  The look in his eyes was an intriguing combination of dark desire and kindness, though I was sure I must be imagining the latter.  I'd never known a guy to look at me with kindness in the moments right before he shoved his cock into my mouth.

"Will this... _need_...go away too?" I asked as he gently guided my head closer to him.  He nodded, stroking my hair back from my face.

"Yes."

"Tom - "

"Shhhh...be quiet now Anja."

He nudged a fingertip into my mouth, parting my lips and hooking his finger against my bottom teeth to get me to open up.  I let my eyes fall to his cock and suddenly realized how astonishingly _big_ he was. Swallowing hard to try to relax my throat, I took him into my mouth and pressed my tongue against his slit, swallowing again to get used to the taste of him.  He groaned and I felt him begin to stiffen.

For a few short minutes we were like that, going slow, me licking and sucking, him stroking my hair and holding my head gently as the arousal built and he grew harder inside my mouth.

And then something completely primitive overtook us both; before I realized how hard I was suddenly sucking him, my hands grasping his ass and my teeth nipping at his shaft, he had me on my back on the bed, his body over me, thrusting himself into my mouth.  The excitement was _thrilling_ and all I could do was lay still with my head tilted back so that he didn't choke me, holding onto the backs of his thighs with my hands, trying to remember to breath around his thrusts.  His knees were pressed against my sides just close enough to keep me from moving.  Something in me told me I should be scared by the sudden ferocious turn this had all taken, but it was battling with something else that I could only foggily identify as an overriding black lust that was laughing with gleeful abandon from some place even deeper than the fear.  And in the end, it won.

I don't know at what point I crossed the line into total loss of inhibition.  All I know is that one moment I was still capable of rational thought, talking myself out of doing anything too insanely against character, and the next I was completely brainless, operating solely on instinct and impulse.  He was over me, fucking my mouth with a barely contained force, obviously riding dangerously close to the edge of losing control but keeping himself reigned in just enough to keep from hurting me.  I reacted with a survival instinct that switched on immediately - lay still, tilt your head, relax your throat, flatten your tongue.  Hold on.  Help him find his release quickly before he loses control.  My hands were gripping his legs tightly to anchor me and when I let go to slide them up to his ass, he groaned loudly and thrust harder into my mouth.  Without thinking, I reached up and squeezed his cheeks, pulling them apart, pressing my fingers in between them till I found his opening and pushed in first one, then two, feeling his whole body tense and then start to tremble above me.  He growled out a curse and something muffled, incoherent, as I pumped my fingers in and out.

 _Holy shit am I doing this?_ It was the only thought I could form before he came, his muscles going tight as he tensed up and then released into my throat with a gutteral cry.  His hips thrust twice more as he emptied completely and I swallowed over and over, remembering what he'd said - _One in your belly to mix with your own._ I didn't think about what I was doing, I just did it, and when he was finished he crumpled beside me, reaching down to pull me up next to him, cradling me in his arms as he struggled to catch his breath.  He tipped my face up to run a gentle fingertip over and between my lips to check me for injury.  I expected to taste blood, but I didn't.  I only tasted him.

After a few minutes he squeezed my shoulders and pressed his mouth to the top of my head, breathing deeply for a moment before leaving a kiss there.

"Your wild side is showing, Miss Anja."

I closed my eyes tight, not ready to think about any of it yet.  I was feeling a little bit sick again and I desperately wanted a drink, but his big warm hands were rubbing up and down on my arms and the scent of his skin was oddly comforting.  I quickly noticed that I suddenly felt much cooler, and the burning, gnawing need in the pit of my stomach was beginning to settle.  Even the cold sweat on his chest felt comfortable under my cheek, and something else was creeping in, something I hadn't felt in quite a while.

I felt content.  Dirty, lewd, maybe even a little bit defiled...but content.  But there was something else too, something even more unexpected.  Lying there in his arms with his hands moving slowly over me, I felt more cared for than I ever had before.  He'd been rough with me, yes, but not without my consent - and each time, he had checked me to make sure I was alright afterwards.  

Content and cared for.   _With Tom...?_

I didn't know how that was even possible, but it felt good.

 

"I had that dream, you know?  The other night...it was like a replay of that night with Eric, and sort of a...flash forward, I guess...of tonight."

Tom's fingers were lazily playing with my hair, picking up strands and twisting them around his fingers.  He didn't seem surprised.

"What did you see?"

"Eric getting his beatdown...only it was a little more serious than a Doc Marten to the ribcage."

He  _hmm'ed_ quietly and I felt it vibrate through his chest.  "What happened to him?"

"You ripped his throat out."

He shrugged, yawning.  "Typical pack warfare.  When alphas fight over a female it can get messy."  He looked down at me.  "Did I claim you once he was dead?"

"Yes, you did.  And I sorta wished I'd just stuck with Eric.  You were brutal, you ass."

He gripped my hair, not pulling, but holding it tight in his fist so that I had to look up at him.  "That's what happens when you get too close to other men," he warned me ominously, his tone tempered with the slightest of grins turning up just the corners of his mouth.  His fingers loosened and he patted me, like a pet.  "Flash forward to tonight, eh?"

"Yeah.  You did the four markings thing.  But there was no comfy bed involved, and lots more biting."  I laid my head back on his chest and listened to his heart thump.  "I really hate you, you know."

He laughed softly.  "I know, bitch pudding.  I'm not overly fond of you, either."  He stroked my hair and as I dozed off to the steady soothing cadence of his breathing, all I felt was safe.

 

 

 

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Sometime in the early hours before morning I woke from another dream that I couldn't remember.  It left me unsettled and scared, and when I opened my eyes I saw the face from my dreams, laying next to me, breathing softly.  The same face, minus the fangs.  Asleep on my pillow.

I couldn't believe he'd stayed the night.  I wondered briefly if he would leave as soon as he woke up in the morning, or if he would stay and eat breakfast in my kitchen, showering after I left for work.  The idea seemed kind of endearing to me in a ridiculously perverted domestic sort of way and I decided having him lock up on his way out didn't seem as stomach-turning as it would have just a few days ago.  I reached up and touched his face.  In the half light, he had the same relaxed, worry-free expression that children often have when they're sleeping...I didn't know how old Tom was but I knew he wasn't a child.  He always had a sort of serene look about him, but this was almost... _angelic._  But the dream had me feeling uneasy - it was the third time he'd shown up, snarling and sniffing for blood.  I eased my fingertip into his mouth to check him for sharp teeth.

His eyes opened slowly and focused on me, his expression not changing.  He grabbed my hand and held it in place as he bit me.  "Dream?" he whispered.

"Yeah."  

"Good or bad?"

"I can't remember.  Felt bad, maybe."

He pulled my hand away from his face and moved it down to his stomach; my fingers brushed lightly over the soft trail of hair that ran south down the middle of his lower belly and we both groaned, our hips instinctively pushing toward each other.  He moved my hand lower and I let him put it where he wanted, pressing my fingers around his shaft as he hardened in my grip.

"It's almost morning," I murmured against his chest, where I was nibbling at his nipple.  "Do we have to beat the sunrise?"

He let go of my hand and gripped my hip, pushing me over onto my back.  I spread my legs as he climbed on top of me, but he wanted them wider and reached down to grab one leg, lifting it up over his shoulder.  "Only if you want to get any more sleep before the cock crows."

"Oh?  And just how long until this _cock_ crows?" I asked, sliding my hand down his stomach to guide him into me as he positioned himself over me.

He grinned that wolfish grin of his.  "In just about seven minutes."

 

"So tell me something else about this pack dynamics behavior.  What's going to happen when I walk into the office today with your scent all over me?"  I had pushed him over and was sitting on top of him; he was allowing it for the moment, but I could tell his dominant nature was about to take over again by the possessive way he was looking at me.  He was thrusting up into me, taking my breath away with every rough push of his pelvis, his big warm hands gripping my hips so hard that I could feel the bruises forming.

"You won't have to worry about other men flirting with you..."  He pushed hard, arching his hips up off the bed, knocking me off balance so that he could flip me over onto my back.  "And the other women will defer to you as the alpha female, although they won't realize it or understand why they suddenly feel more intimidated by you than usual."

I let him reposition me under him again; he handled me like I weighed nothing, moving me the way he wanted me.  With anyone else I think i would have resented the powerless feeling of another human being being completely in control of my situation, especially someone like Tom, but I found myself instead loving the sensation of being cared for.  He didn't coddle me, but he seemed to know if I was uncomfortable and shifted me so that he didn't hurt me.  

"They're not intimidated by me - wait, I'm an alpha now?" I asked, pausing to groan as he bent his head down to give my nipple a hard suck.  He rolled his hips against me slowly, driving himself deep, moving his head to my other breast to give it the same treatment.

"You've always been an alpha female," he answered in between tonguing my nipple and giving it gentle nips with his teeth.  "Why do you think we're drawn to you?"

"We?"

"Me.  Eric.  Sometimes Chris."

"Chris?"

"Don't worry about him, he's already bonded to his female."

"Really??  Who?"

He growled and reached down between us to give my clit a pinch.  I yelled and arched violently up into him.

"Need I remind you that we're mating here?" he scolded me with a stern look.  "Fuck now, talk later."

I sat up under him and he arched up to give me room.  We couldn't seem to find a position that both of us wanted and a lot of our energy was being spent pushing each other around.  His hand came up to my neck and his long slim fingers snaked around my throat, squeezing just slightly, his face breaking into a dangerous grin as he looked into my eyes with what I could only describe as sexy malice.  "Be still bitch pudding...don't make me subdue you."

I nipped at his chin but he moved back so I couldn't reach him.  With his hand around my throat, I didn't have much leeway to move without inadvertently putting pressure on my windpipe.  "And what would that include?  Being subdued by you?"

He squeezed a little harder, licking the side of my face with his tongue.  It was a slow, sensual motion and I felt my eyes closing of their own accord, my head starting to drop back.  This guy...he knew how to mess me up doing things that I never would have seen myself being messed up by.  It was unnerving.

"I'd probably hurt you a little...just a little," he responded, sliding his tongue down the other side of my face.  "I don't hurt women unless we've agreed to it, so don't worry - I'm not going to suddenly go all sadist on you.  Unless that's your thing."

I honestly didn't know _what_ was my thing anymore.  This new idea of agreeing to let him hurt me - even just a little - sounded groaningly good.

"And then I'd have to hold you down, show you who's boss, let you know your place is under me."  The teasing look in his eyes let me know that he wasn't serious, but he'd already made it clear that everything was open to discussion.  I was finding a lot that I wanted to discuss with him.  His hand tightened just slightly around my throat as he opened his mouth and clamped down on my chin, sucking lightly, his teeth digging into my skin.  It was the strangest thing I'd ever felt, but _damn_ it was hot.

"And once that was done, I'd have to do something I knew you didn't want, just to prove to you that your will is an entirely breakable thing once you get into my bed."

"We're in _my_ bed."

He thrust his hips down at the same time he knocked my arms out from under me, slamming me back onto my back again.  "I'm tired of talking," he growled as he pushed into me roughly.  I was harshly reminded of how bruisingly large his cock was as it slid into me again; I was more than adequately wet, but he still stretched me every time he entered me and it burned like fire for a few seconds, taking my breath away.  I whimpered and he immediately let go of my throat to reach up and stroke my face, sucking gently at my bottom lip while he rolled his hips against me.

"Shhhh," he whispered soothingly against my lips until I settled again.  He pushed hard against me several times until he and I were both tensing, the friction at our pelvises bringing us quickly to the point of orgasm, then pulled out of me before either of us reached it.  "Where do you want it, baby girl?"

I didn't know what he was talking about for a moment, so lost and confused was I by his sudden withdrawal and the cessation of that delicious friction.  He sat up between my legs and put his hand on my stomach, splaying his long fingers out across my skin and moving his thumb down to my clit to begin stroking me.  The heated build of tension started again and I pushed my bottom up off the bed, trying to make him rub me harder.

"Want what?" I choked out, stretching my arms above my head and gripping the headboard.

"Your fourth marking.  Skin.  You choose where I come."

_The fourth marking._  I'd forgotten.  We were almost done.  The sun was ready to start peeking through the windows any minute and here we were, still having sex, neither of us even remotely ready to stop.  But we knew we had to.  I had to go to work and he had to - well, I didn't really know what he had to do, but I did know he was almost always behind the bar at the pub by noon.  A few of us from the office ate lunch there a couple of times a week and he always made whatever I ordered himself.  The paralegal from downstairs had a crush on him and embarrassed herself frequently trying to flirt with him, but he never seemed to notice.  

"Tell me where, Anja," he reminded me, gripping his cock tightly.  From the look on his face I could tell he was struggling to hold back.  I stared up at him from my stretched-out position, my hands tightly grasping the headboard rails, wriggling my hips just slightly and moaning while his thumb rubbed little circles on my swollen clit.  He sucked in his breath and slipped his hand down to the base of his cock, squeezing hard enough to keep himself from coming.  "God, girl...you are so fucking beautiful."

I stopped moving and I think my mouth must have dropped open.  It was the last thing I had ever expected to hear Tom say to me, but what was even more shocking was the fact that I had just that moment been thinking the exact same thing about him.

_Nope,_ I chastised myself silently.   _He didn't say that, and you're not thinking it.  He's not beautiful, he's Tom for gods sake.  Not your type, creepy as hell, looks nothing like Paul McGann.  Stop._

But as I looked up at him, at his chiseled jawline and sharp cheekbones, his square chin and long neck and those blue and green speckled eyes, the lean, powerful chest and sculpted body and that long, inky, glossy blue-back hair falling over his strong shoulders...I realized I'd been wrong all along.  He _was_ beautiful.  Beautiful in a fallen angel sort of way, like a cherub that grew up and went just a little bit bad.  And I was attracted to him despite my best efforts not to be.  He'd been in my bed all night, keeping me wet and making me come, marking me to protect me, and I was loving it despite everything that screamed in my head against it.

I brought my arms down and reached for him, opening to him, and he lowered against my chest and let me hug him.  He was trembling and I knew he was hurting, so I pushed my stomach up against him and slipped one hand down between us to press his swollen cock against my belly.  "Mark me here," I whispered against his ear as his hair fell across my face, tickling my cheek.  He made a sound of pained relief as he pushed down and squeezed it between us.  It only took him a few short thrusts to finish and he ejaculated onto my stomach with a groan.

I thought he would lay there with me for a while, but he sat up off of me and moved down between my legs, burying his face quickly in my pussy.  I was still highly aroused, on the brink and just waiting to be pushed over it, so his tongue made short work of setting off my orgasm and I think - I'm fairly certain, in fact - that I screamed his name a few seconds into my climax.

When I could think clearly again, I felt him rubbing my stomach with his palm and looked down groggily to see him massaging his semen into my skin.  His eyes were on my face and he smiled when I looked at him questioningly.  I wasn't going to say anything...nothing made any sense even when he explained it, so I was starting to just take everything he did on faith, without protest, question, or complaint.  Besides, it felt good, his strong fingers gliding over and pressing into my belly.  There were much worse things he could be doing to me.  But he'd just completed the marking ritual and I didn't know what was next - was I his?  Would he expect me to sleep with him again?  The whole night had borne a slightly disturbing - though admittedly arousing - air of primal dominance and submission.  Would he try to make me continue being submissive to him?  And how far, exactly, did this dominance thing go...?

"A good alpha male will never hurt his female," he whispered to me as my eyes drifted shut, soothed by his relaxing touch.  Again, he seemed to know what I was thinking without me saying anything.  "He takes care of her and protects her.  You don't have to be afraid of me, Anja.  I'll look after you."

I felt my apprehension leaving, draining out of me slowly with every caress of his hands on my skin, every whisper of his voice assuring me I'd be cared for.  I believed him.  And it felt good.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

 

We lay there for a while, me on his chest, him on his back with his arms around me, lazily stroking the back of my shoulder with his thumb.  The way I felt was entirely different than anything I'd ever felt before, and as I inhaled his skin scent, trying to adjust to this new weirdness, the realization that none of it bothered me was beginning to sink in.  I _wanted_ to be bothered by it.  But it just wasn't there.

It felt natural, everything we'd done and everything about him.  Just going with nature, the way we were programmed genetically, at a level we couldn't understand.  But he seemed to understand it, and suddenly I wanted to know more about him...someone so in tune with the baser aspects of humanity must have all kinds of interesting secrets.  It was shaming to realize that in all the time we'd been on the fringes of each other's lives, I'd never made any attempt to get to know a single thing about him.  He, however, seemed to know a few things about me.

He was right about the intimidation thing.  The other women in the firm I worked for, they either tolerated me while casting jealous sideways glances at me in the hallways, or they scurried around looking for ways to get in my good graces.  I wasn't a boss or even in a managerial position, but they treated me like I was.  I had female friends, but not many - my one tried and true girlfriend was always telling me I scared other women away, though she never elaborated on how or why.  But it was okay, she claimed, because it thinned the herd and left more guys for her to pick from when she was with me.  And Tom had just out of the blue said that _other women would be more intimidated by me than usual._ How could he have known they were to begin with?

I squirmed a little, getting comfortable on top of him; he had shifted his back and disturbed the perfect position I had on his chest.  His arms came up to wrap around me again and I pressed my cheek against him, seeking out the steady thud of his heart.  He had the loudest heartbeat I'd ever heard.

"Are you hungry?"  I asked, starting to think about getting the day going even though all I wanted to do was lay there and listen to the blood rush through his veins.  He gave me a squeeze.

"I'll grab something at the pub.  I have to let the brewery guys in this morning."

I propped myself up on his chest so I could see his face.  "What happens now?"

He stroked my face gently, his thumb very lightly caressing over the bruise on my cheekbone.

"You go to work, I go to work, it's fairly straightforward."

"But the marking.  The claiming thing.  What's that?"  

"It is what it is."  He rubbed his face, the friction of his palm over the new morning stubble on his chin making a sandpapery sound.  "I marked you.  I've claimed you."

"How about you be just a little more cryptic?  You haven't confused or worried me quite enough yet."  He raised his hand and looked at me with one eye open.  

"You want a smack?  Because I have a long reach and your ass is an easy target."

I groaned without even thinking about it.  "That sounds good, you have permission to do that by the way.  But you said I was yours now.  Was that pillowtalk, or am I going to have to watch some nature documentaries to figure this thing out?"  I pulled the blankets up over my bottom to protect it and shot him a nasty look when I realized what else he'd said.  "Wait, did you just say I have a big ass?"

He ignored my second question and answered my first.  "For all intents and purposes, you are."

"Are what?"

"Mine.  Until next month when your hormones start cranking out the jacked up pheremones again, other guys are going to leave you alone.  You'll put out a scent that says  _taken._ They'll subconsciously smell me on you and back off."  He reached down with his hand and rubbed my bottom through the sheets.  

"Just until next month?"

"Yes, then your body will start over."  He hugged my shoulders, holding me tightly to him.  "You're safe till then."

"So that's what you meant when you said you'd protect me?"

"I'll do it again for you next month if you want."

I lay in his arms thinking, though I wasn't sure what I was thinking about.  The whole thing was starting to sound...really nice, in a weird, twisted, perverse sort of way.

_Nice?_

 

"So we only get to have sex once a month?"

He laughed and it rumbled through his chest, vibrating under my ear.  "If that's what you want.  But I assure you, it's here for the taking during the remaining twenty nine days as well."

"Oooh, you _like_ me."

He slid his hand back down to my lower back and pressed his fingers against my spine, just above my butt.  The pressure was just enough to make me squirm while still feeling wildly erotic; I found myself pushing my hips down, grinding against his thigh.

"What's not to like?" he asked with an amused hitch to his voice.  "Responsive, reactive, highly sensual, open to pretty much anything.  You're a wet dream, girl."

I rested my chin on my arm so I could look at him.  "Well, I still don't like you.  Although I am impressed with your ability to go all night, that was a first for me."

He grinned, twining my hair through his fingers and tightening his hand into a fist so that my head was tugged back slightly.  "You don't have to like me...but you're mated to me, so love me or hate me, you'll keep coming back."

I reached up and did the same to his hair, tugging a handful of his long black tresses till he winced.  "We'll see about that."

 

He sat quietly at my little kitchen table, drinking a cup of black coffee while I stood behind him, braiding his hair into a long, thick braid down his back.  I tugged every now and then, trying to get a reaction out of him, but he didn't seem to mind.  I bumped my stomach up against the back of his head and he turned his face to me, closing his eyes to inhale deeply.  After a few seconds he wrapped his long arms around my hips and pulled me close, burying his face in my stomach.

"You smell like us."

I put my hands on his head and rocked him slowly.  "I should clean up and get dressed," I said with a disappointed sigh, not really wanting to go anywhere.  His arms tightened around me and he breathed me in again, loudly.

"Don't bathe, girly.  Don't wash, don't shower.  Just let it sit and simmer till it's soaked into your skin and your chemistry has adjusted.  See what happens."  He pulled his head up and looked at me.  "I can promise you, nobody will dare to flirt with you today at work."  He took another sniff, pushing his head lower down, close to my crotch.  "And most likely not tomorrow or the next day, either."

"I'm supposed to get my period in the next two days, according to you."

"And the pack will be swarming around you until then.  Some will still come after you after that.  But this will help."  He pressed his hand against my stomach.  I could feel the heat radiating off his palm, through my robe and into my skin.

I moved around him and sat down on his lap, lacing my arms around his neck so that we were face to face.  

"What are you?"

He took a sip of his coffee and looked me squarely in the eyes over the top of his cup.  "I'm the same as you."

"Then why all this weirdness?  I keep expecting you to say you're a werewolf or something."

He gave me a mischievous wink.  "There's no such thing as werewolves, girly."

"But - "

He laughed and bounced me on his lap, unbalancing me so that I had to grab his shoulders to stay upright.  "You really want me to be one, don't you?"  I gave him a petulant look and he shifted me on his knee so that I was up against him.  "Some of us are just a little more in tune with what goes on inside us as a species."   

"Some of us...?"

"Yes."

"That sounds like a secret society.  Why don't you just tell me what all this is and I'll tell you if I ever want to see you again."

He laughed.  "There's nothing secret about any of it, babe.  Everyone knows the same shit.  Some of us just pay closer attention to it."

"What same shit?"

"Hormones.  Pheremones.  Every mammal on this planet puts off a scent.  At certain times that scent is fine tuned by our bodies to bring us to each other, to increase the chances of propagation."  He slid his hand down to my stomach.  "That's why during certain times of the month a woman is irresistible to pretty much any male that comes within sniffing distance."

"Like you and Eric."

He nodded.  "Everybody senses this stuff, but not everybody reacts to it.  Some people are more highly sexed than others and react more strongly."  

"Eric?"

"Eric might not have ever reacted the way he did if he hadn't been drunk.  Alcohol inhibits some of our senses and activates others."

"And you?  You seem to be onto it all the time."

"Because I know what I'm smelling.  I pay attention."

"But why?"

"It fascinates me.  Men, women, the whole enigma of what brings people to each other.  You and I.  We didn't even like each other, but we ended up in bed together."  His fingers were pressing into my stomach, just below my bellybutton.  I didn't know what he was doing but it felt strange and wonderful.  "You let me claim you, you let me mark you. Why would you do that?"

"I honestly have no idea."

"Exactly.  Your hormones were driving you to seek out a mate.  You didn't realize it, but when a strong male presence made itself available, your hormones pulled you to it."

"You."

"Yep."

He drained his cup and set it on the table, then nudged his mouth up under my jaw to lick my pulsepoint.  I could smell the coffee on his breath, and it made me want him again.  All this talk of hormones and mine were starting to go haywire...I lifted my leg over him so that I was straddling his lap and pressed up against him, rubbing my crotch against his bare stomach.  He was dressed in only his jeans, which were still unbuttoned.

I moaned as I pushed my lips against his, not knowing if he was going to throw me across the table and ravage me or sit me back and tell me he had to get to work.  Alarms went off in my head when he did neither - he did absolutely nothing, just sitting there with me on his lap, letting me kiss him - but I ignored the warning that something was strange and went instead with the simmering desire that was beginning to churn in my gut.  I got more aggressive and rubbed myself harder against him, my soft moans turning into impatient groans, barely able to hold myself back, grinding into him and opening my robe to cool the oppressive heat that was suddenly overtaking me.  When he finally responded, it was to reach up and take my face in his hands, moving me just far enough away from him so that I was forced to look at him.

"Do you feel that, Anja?" he asked, his voice quiet and low, almost menacing.  I nodded.  "Do you know what it is?"  I nodded again.

_"I want you,"_   I groaned, starting to ache.  "I feel like a cat in fucking heat."

He grinned.

"Exactly."

 

In the end, he did throw me over the table and ravage me.  It was wild and it was primitive and it was hot as hell, with me screaming and him grunting and the little table creaking as he pounded me into it, my face against the cold hard wood, the sharp edge cutting into my hipbones.  Halfway through he stopped and turned me over so that I was on my back with my ass at the edge and my legs up over his shoulders, looking down at me with darkened eyes, his face a mixture of desire and lust and pain and something that I could only describe as barely contained rage.  I wondered if he was feeling the same uncontrollable heat that I was.  His hands gripped my thighs so hard that I cried out and tried to pry his fingers loose, but he let go with one hand and moved it under me, slapping my raised ass so hard that I had to slam my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming.  It _hurt._ But the unexpected pain yanked me straight to the brink of climax and before I was even done sucking in my breath from the shock of being hit, I came hard, so hard that I think I might have blacked out for a moment.  When I opened my eyes Tom was hunched over my stomach, breathing hard and heavy, his shoulders shaking from his own climax.  I hadn't even been aware of it.  Everything was so intense and surprising, I could barely even remember my own name, much less keep track of everybody's orgasms.

He moved up over me and kissed me hard, his tongue pushing in between my lips to press my own tongue down to the bottom of my mouth.   _Pure dominance,_ I thought.  Even his freaking tongue has to be the boss.  But it didn't bother me...far from it.  I actually liked it, and wanted more of it.

But not right now.  Right now I needed to get up off my creaking kitchen table and get dressed, get to work, and try to at least pretend to be a responsible adult doing a responsible job in a responsible manner. But all I wanted to do was let Tom pick me up and carry me back to my wet, rumpled, totally wrecked bed and fuck me fifteen more new ways before noon.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

He came into the bathroom and stood behind me at the sink, lowering his head to that spot between shoulder and neck where lips feel so good, and kissed me there.  I braced myself against the sink with my hands, thinking he was going to take me again, but he just kissed me and then slid his hands up under my hair to expose the rest of my neck.  When his kisses reached the top of my spine, he opened his mouth and I felt him biting me, slowly, his teeth not breaking my skin but I knew it would definitely leave a mark.  I tensed up under the pain and his hands moved to my shoulders to keep me still.

Letting my head drop, I allowed him to physically mark me.  The bruise would be hidden under my hair so I wasn't worried about it.  He could put as many marks on me as he wanted, I could cover just about anything with my business suit, and makeup would take care of the rest.   _Bring it on baby_ was the only truly coherent thought I had as his hands moved around in front of me to slip under my robe and cup my breasts.

I moaned and tried to turn to face him, but his teeth were still biting into the back of my neck and there was very little I could actually do in the way of moving.  His hands on my breasts were gentle at first, then rougher, finally squeezing hard as he took my nipples between his fingers and thumbs and pinched them, hard enough to make me yelp.  But the bite stopped me from moving away from the onslaught and I just surrendered to it, feeling myself becoming unbearably wet between the legs for the dozenth time since the previous night.  He let go of my right breast and pushed his hand down between my thighs to stroke at my clit, pressing two fingers into me roughly without giving me the preparatory single finger first.  It burned and I flinched, but I took it without complaint.

When I gripped the sink and pushed my bottom back against him, trying to bend over so he could take me, he finally released me from the bite and stepped back, putting space between us.  I groaned and put my head down on the sink, thinking he was removing his jeans behind me, but when he didn't touch me again I looked up into the mirror and saw him just standing there, grinning that wolfish grin.

"Oh no you don't," I whined, standing up and pulling my robe shut.  "You're not going to leave me like this, are you?"

He nodded.  "Wet and in a state of frustrated arousal.  You'll slay them in the board meeting."  He smacked me on the bottom as he reached around me to get the toothpaste from the mirrored cabinet.  I watched him as he squeezed some onto his finger and slipped it into his mouth...even just brushing his teeth, he exuded that roughly sexy aura of  _this man is a boss._

I glared at him.  "What if I just wait until you leave and then take care of it myself?"

He shrugged.  "You won't."

"Why won't I?"

"Because I'm about to forbid you to."  He spit in the sink and put his face close to mine.  "No touching.  No stroking, no rubbing, no pushing up against anything.  No release, no relief.  Don't even press your legs together."  He opened the front of my robe and bent his head to kiss me on the breast, giving my nipple a little lick to make the whole thing worse.  "Call me at noon and I'll talk you through some quick relief." He walked out of the bathroom, leaving me standing there in a frustrated haze of horniness.  "And don't forget to take your birth control pill," he yelled back over his shoulder from the bedroom.  "You need a refill."

 

My phone was on the kitchen table; he had put his number in it.  The phone book was laying next to it, open to the pharmacies page.  I had to giggle at his thoroughness...I looked around to make sure he was gone and, even though it was obvious he'd left, I still couldn't bring myself to disobey him despite the horribly uncomfortable ache between my legs.  I sighed with resignation and kept my hands aboveboard as I called in my refill and dressed for work, skipping the shower like he'd ordered me to.  The weirdness should have been over since he was gone now, back into his own world and out of mine, at least until noon...but as I pulled on my shoes and gathered my briefcase and purse, I couldn't help feeling like the weirdness was going to be a permanent part of me now.  Maybe I'd feel better once I got back home and washed my sheets.  Or burned them.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

 

At noon I kicked off my shoes, shut my office door, and sat back with my coffee, turning my phone over and over in my hand.  I wasn't sure if I should call him; I wasn't even sure if I _wanted_ to call him, but he had told me to, and god help me I was suddenly of a mind that I should do whatever he said.  

I dialed his number and he answered on the third ring.

"Hello girly."

"Hey."

"You've been good?"

"Define good."

I was leaning back in my chair and put my feet up on my desk.  He laughed a little; I could hear muffled sounds from the pub and assumed he must be in the back room, where he'd taken me the night Eric attacked me.

"Good means no touching, like you were told."

"Then I've been very good, because I've been too busy to even think about it."  I was lying - I'd been busy, yes, but I had been thinking about it, almost every second of the day so far.  He'd left me with a throbbing ache that had finally died down to a pulsing discomfort, but every time I crossed my legs or sat down, I felt it distinctly.  

He chuckled, seeing right through me.  "Open your legs and put your hand against your pussy."

The sudden turn in conversation took me by surprise and I glanced over at the door.  The shades on both sides were shut and I'd locked it like I always do when I spend lunch hour in my office.  My heart pounding, I decided disobeying him wasn't really something I wanted to do - not for fear of punishment, because provoking him into spanking me was something I very much wanted to eventually try, but because _I just wanted to obey him._

I hooked my toes on the edge of the desk and hiked my skirt up, giggling a little as I slipped my hand up under it.  It felt so unbelievably good to finally touch myself, my vaginal muscles actually contracted the moment my palm made contact.  I gasped a little and Tom heard me.

"Feels good, huh baby?  Give it a rub - I promised you a quick release, you earned it."

I rubbed myself through my panties, knowing it would be even better without them, but I was suddenly in a hurry, the heat starting to rise in my belly to a seething boil as he whispered dirty things in my ear.  It didn't take more than three or four minutes for me to come with the help of his darkly sexy voice, and when I did it was so strong, so intense, so _fucking good_ that my juices gushed out and puddled in the leather chair under my butt.  I gasped heavily as I caught my breath afterwards and he let me get myself under control before he spoke again.

"Come by the pub after work, have a beer with me."  His voice sounded amused, sort of light and happy, not the least bit aroused or even bothered.  I was almost mad at him for it as I stood up to fix my skirt and felt the wetness sliding down my inner thighs.  I mumbled something like "Okay sure I'll be there," and then cursed when I realized I didn't even have a box of tissues in my office.  I would have to walk down the hall to the ladies room with my thighs sopping wet and probably making slurpy noises as they rubbed together.

"You suck, Tom," I growled into the phone.  He laughed and I could just see him throwing his head back, his mouth wide open and his eyes scrunched shut.  "I'm messed up over here and you sound like you're calling in a pizza order."

"No, I'd be more excited than this if I were calling in a pizza."

"I take it back, you don't suck, _you're a dick!"_

"Heheh...you love me, bitch pudding.  See you later."

He hung up and I slammed my phone down.  I wasn't mad, but I was beyond irritated despite the undeniable relief he'd given me.  I straightened myself up and stood by the door, steadying my breathing, then resigned myself to the office version of a walk of shame and headed for the ladies room.  

 

Kady and I walked into the pub and headed for the back, where we always sat, sometimes alone but usually with several of our friends who always seemed to be there.  Tonight there was nobody but us, so we sat and started talking - or rather griping - about the case files I had in my bag.  She suddenly looked over my head and got that dreamy look she always got when she spotted Tom, and I immediately felt guilty. She'd had a non-serious thing for him for about two years now and though he was always nice to her, he'd never really paid her much attention.

I could feel him behind me before he ever even spoke.  It wasn't just that sense people get when other people are nearby - this was like a tingle, starting in the base of my spine and working its way slowly upwards until I knew without any doubt that he was ten feet away, four feet, two feet.  Seven inches away.  I felt his hip brush against my shoulder.

He leaned over and set a cup of cappuccino in front of me.

"What can I get you ladies?"

His hip was still touching my shoulder and I turned my face up to look at him.  There was a look of smug self satisfaction in his eyes as he rested his hand on the back of my chair, letting his thumb stroke my back where no one could see it.

"Give me a beer, handsome," Kady chirped, cheerful as always.  "Whatever's on tap."

Tom smiled and slung his kitchen towel over his shoulder, sauntering off back to the bar while Kady shamelessly checked him out.  "God that boy is sex on a stick.  I could use a few hours of him in my bed."

I turned and looked to see what she was talking about.  He had stopped to chat with someone and was standing with his back to us.  I had to admit, he did look good, even though his body type wasn't what I'd always considered my ideal.  Too tall, too thin, too long, too lean.  But he had a nice ass and thick thighs wrapped in black leather jeans, and his blue button-front shirt had the sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong forearms.  I had a flashback to the night before and being held in those arms, my legs tangled with those legs, and felt an actual blush coming up to set my ears on fire.

"Why are you always so horny?" I chided her, turning back around to blow on my cappuccino.  I took a sip - it was exactly the way I liked it, as always.  He brought me one without fail, every time I came in, whether I asked for it or not...and it was always perfect, even though I had only ever told him once how to make it.  He never forgot, and it was always just right.  Why had I never noticed this little detail?

"I heard he's one of those lost boys that you see on the news."

"What?"  

"You know, those kids that go missing when they're like ten years old and never turn up, but they weren't killed or kidnapped or whatever, they just ran away and lived their lives somewhere else, and now they're grownups without any family and no real identity."

I put my coffee down and looked at her in confusion.  "Tom's a missing kid?"

"That's what I was told.  He like, went missing a decade ago or whatever, ran away.  And now here he is."

"Who'd you hear this from?"

"Chris."

"Well, don't repeat it.  You don't know if it's true...and if it is, he probably doesn't want anyone to know.  That's sort of the purpose behind running away and going somewhere else, isn't it."

Kady's eyes focused past me and I knew Tom was coming back with her beer.  He set it in front of her, leaning across me, and I caught a whiff of his skin scent for just a moment.  He hadn't showered, just like I hadn't, and I could smell us on him.  It made me shiver and I squeezed my knees together under the table.

He sat down with us, taking a long swig from a tall glass of beer as he settled in.  "Mind if I join you girls?" he asked, his knee bumping against mine under the table.  Kady leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand, going into full seduction mode like she always did when he came around.

"Why would we mind?  We've been cooped up in climate controlled offices all day, you're a breath of fresh air, sunshine."

I shook my head and turned my attention to my coffee.  Tom was drinking his beer, kicked back like he was waiting for his buddies, but under the table his thigh was rubbing up against mine in a very distracting, very sensual way.  He smiled at Kady over the top of his glass and gave her a wink.

They conversed while I sorted through the files I'd brought from the office, until a group of our friends came in and Kady hopped up to go greet them, leaving Tom and I alone.  He was quiet for a minute, drinking his beer, looking at me while I shuffled papers until I met his stare and raised my eyebrow at him.

"How was your day?" he asked, his eyes sparkling mischievously.  "Any unwanted attention?"

"Only from some heavy breather that called at noon to talk dirty at me."  He grinned and I knew I didn't even need to tell him, he already knew.  Not a single one of the men I worked with, nor anyone on the public transport, had so much as come within four feet of me.  Not even the office perv, who never failed to try to grope me at least once a day, nor my boss, who was a notorious flirt and asked me out for drinks no fewer than a half dozen times a week.  Not one single advance.  And the women, even the snidest of them, had gone out of their way to help me get the paperwork and files together for the board meeting.  I usually did it alone, but today everyone helped.  It was awesome.

He glanced over at the bar where his assistant was tending, then around the pub, taking a quick assessment before he cocked his head toward the back room and stood up.  "Come on."

I stood and followed him without question, hanging a few steps back so Kady wouldn't notice if she happened to look over.  He took me into the back and shut the door behind me.  I turned to him and he opened his arms, his face breaking into a sweet smile as I stepped into his embrace and let him hug me to his body.  He planted a soft little kiss to the top of my head and I heard myself sighing, a completely contented sound that absolutely shouldn't have been happening.

Tom, the bartender, the guy I didn't like, who annoyed the hell out of me every chance he got, who called me _bitch pudding_ for gods sake.  Who the hell comes up with something like that?  And I was in his arms feeling like it was the one place in the universe where I truly belonged, where I fit perfectly, where I was safe and cared for without question.  Where nothing else mattered and I didn't have to impress anyone or live up to my potential or exceed anyone's expectations.  No pressure.  Just his heart beating loud and steady against my ear.

Must have been the hormones.  I was starting to get that unpleasant lower body ache that comes right before all hell breaks loose; it was painfully obvious I only had about a day left.  I couldn't get over how accurate his prediction was.

His hand was on the back of my head, stroking my hair, and I reached up behind him to tug on his braid.  He'd left it the way I had put it that morning and a few stray strands had worked their way out.  I twirled one around my fingers and pressed myself closer to him.

"Give me a call if you get lonely at night," he said quietly as he rocked me.  "Or if you get scared, have a nightmare or something.  You've been prone to that a lot lately."

I nodded, pushing my face into the front of his shirt.  It was soft from being worn a million times and the buttons were worn down around the edges.  "I've got your number."

His hands came up to cradle my face as I looked up at him and he bent his head to kiss me, but not on the lips - he pressed the kiss against my eyelid, then moved across to do the same to the other.  "Ewan's about to get swamped out there, I need to get back," he whispered just as Ewan's voice broke into our private universe with an urgent plea for help.

"You're uncanny," I laughed, still pressed tight to him.  He smiled.  "And I need to get home, I've got files to work on."  I worked myself out of his arms, reluctantly, and straightened my clothes.  His big warm hand pressed for a moment against my bottom and I squirmed a bit as his long fingers curled up under me to tease me.

"See you, girly."  He opened the door and held it to see if I wanted to go out with him or wait and come out separately; I shrugged and murmured "What the hell" as I walked out behind him, not really caring if anyone saw us together.

 

I woke up sobbing, not sure what I'd seen but scared and shaken by it, maybe more so for not remembering what it was that had been so horrifying.  I had fallen asleep on my sofa just a few minutes after getting home, before I'd really even had time to open the files and start working on them.  It was raining and my balcony doors were open.  The room had the strangely thick permeating scent of wet dog, which struck me as strange because I didn't have a dog.

My first impulse was to grab my phone and call Tom, like he'd told me to do if this happened.  The idea irritated me because never in my life have I been dependent on anyone for anything, much less for comfort after a bad dream.  It made me feel like a little girl and part of me _hated_ it - but another part, a quieter, shyer, more deeply hidden part, wanted so badly to be wrapped in his protective arms that it made me ache inside.  Maybe his voice would help me calm down enough to get back to work.  I dialed his number and he answered before the second ring had finished.

"What's up girly?"

"Hey.  Are you home yet?"

"I am.  Got off early, just cooking some dinner."  He went quiet for a moment, like he was listening to the silence on the line and interpreting its meaning.  "Are you okay, Anja?"

I knew he would do that.  He had this way of tuning into things so precisely that he could almost tell you the details before you'd ever even said a word.

"You had a dream again, didn't you?"

There it was.  Spooky.

"Yeah...same one, I think, couldn't remember it at all this time though."  He must have been able to hear the upset in my voice because his tone became instantly soothing.

"Shhhh, it's okay baby girl.  Why don't you come over?"

"No, I really have a lot to do and I haven't even started yet."

"Bring it with you.  I'll read, you'll work."

I smiled.  "What are you reading?"

"I'll show you when you get here.  You know where my place is, right?"

"Not a clue, actually."

He gave me instructions and I was surprised to realize he was within walking distance of me.  How had he lived that close to me all this time without me knowing it?  He interrupted my stupor with one last instruction before he hung up.

"Bring something to sleep in."

 

We ended up in bed together, but not before I'd finished my paperwork and he'd read out loud to me from a book of Norse mythology while we ate dinner.  It was interesting stuff, a bit weird but it didn't surprise me that he would be drawn to unusual folklore.  When I finally shoved my completed files back into my bag, he stood and held his hand out to me.

"Let's go to bed, baby."

His place was surprisingly neat, although I don't know what I really expected.  Tom didn't quite fit the mold of the typical late-20-something single guy.  His bedroom was comfortable, strewn with books and blankets, and when I sat on the end of his bed my first thought was that I wouldn't mind waking up here in the morning.

"Can I take a shower?" I asked as he moved about the room, putting his books away.  

"Of course.  Through there, make yourself at home."  He motioned toward the hallway and smiled.  "Everything's soaked in enough now."

I swear I almost blushed, his subtle reminder of what we'd done the night before rushing back to me in a not so subtle rush of heat between my legs.  I tried not to look at him as I left the room with my nightshirt clutched against my chest.

 

I'd been in the shower for a few minutes when he stuck his head in the door.  "I have to run back to the pub and help Ewan lock up.  You'll be okay - I'll lock the door behind me."  He came in and laid a towel on the sink for me.  "Go on to bed, I'll be back soon."

I nodded and he left.  It felt strange, being in his place by myself, but as I finished my shower and dried off before slipping into his bed, I felt like maybe this was the one place in the world that I wouldn't have the nightmare.  In a place I'd never been in before, in a strange bed with my head on a pillow that smelled like someone I barely knew, I felt completely safe.

 

I don't know how much later it was that I felt him climb into bed behind me and lay his arm over my waist, pulling me back against him.  He was warm and welcoming and I sighed sleepily as I let him press up against me and slip his knee between my thighs.

"Sorry to wake you," he murmured against my ear.  I could feel the beginnings of his arousal poking me in the behind and it sparked a rush of heat in my belly.

"Mmm, I'm glad you did," I whispered as he moved his hand down between my legs and teased my clit, pushing a finger into me while he tongued my ear.  

"No nightmares?" 

"No nightmares."

"Good."  He slipped his cock into me from behind and I sucked in my breath, my whole body suddenly hot and trembling; he stilled me with soothing words that ran completely incongruous to the firm grip he now had on my throat.  The contrast between the two extremes was so intensely arousing that I was already on the brink of climax before he even started thrusting into me.

_"Oh god Tom.  That feels so good..."_

The words spilled from my lips as he was pressing his mouth to mine, and at that moment his fingers hit just the right spot between my legs, sending me over the edge.  As I came, he gently pushed against my shoulder, turning me onto my stomach so he could put his weight against my back and thrust deep till he found his own climax just moments later.  We lay together like that for a while, our bodies slowly cooling, still joined, his chest against my shoulder holding me still till we fell asleep.  There were no dreams, but I could hear him breathing close to my ear as I slept.  It seemed unsettlingly familiar, but its presence was comforting enough that I was able to let it lull me into the best sleep I'd had in a very, very long time.

 

_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

He was gone when I woke up the next morning, off to unlock the pub for the delivery guys.  I groaned when I felt the empty expanse of bed next to me, but I could still smell him on the sheets and the pillow; I tugged the blanket from his side of the bed up to my face and inhaled deeply, pulling his scent into my lungs the way he'd done with mine so many times.  I was beginning to understand how it affected him.

He'd made me breakfast and left it on the kitchen table, the bacon strips arranged on a plate in the shape of a heart.  I laughed harder than I probably should have when I saw it - he could be incredibly sweet when he wanted to be.  Something about heart-shaped bacon made me feel stupidly happy and I sat down to eat it, checking the blinking message on my phone, overcome by a shiver of excitement when I saw that it was a text from him.

_Go back to bed for 15 minutes.  Touch yourself for me.  Wipe your come on the sheets so I can smell you when I get home._

Nothing in my life has ever made my stomach clench harder than that message.  My brain actually read it in his voice and the effect was instantaneous...I wasn't even going to need fifteen minutes, in fact I'd be lucky if I made it all the way to the bedroom in time.

Obedience, I was discovering, felt perfect.  

I tucked his pillow between my legs and almost started crying at how helplessly aroused I was.  As its cushy softness rubbed tantalizingly against me and my hips moved of their own volition into it, I closed my eyes and thought of him, of the way he'd touched me the night before, the dirty words spoken so softly and the total and unrelenting domination so lovingly administered.  Every last bit of it was something I never knew I needed, yet now that I'd had it, I felt like I should mourn for how long I'd lived without it.  

I didn't _have_ to touch myself, it was going to happen whether my fingers were involved or not.  But he'd said to, so I slid my hand down between my legs and just cupped myself, letting my orgasm empty my heated juices into my palm as I whimpered helplessly through it.  And when I was done, I used the sheets to dry my hand and between my legs, just like he'd ordered.

I made the bed before I changed into the clothes I'd been wearing the night before, rinsed my breakfast dishes off in the sink, and locked up behind myself as I left to go home.  I knew I'd be distracted all day, but there was very little I could do about that.  I smiled as I stepped into the elevator; I'd left my nightshirt in the bed, tucked up under his pillow, a little gift for him to hold onto the next time he felt overcome with the need to relieve himself.  If nothing else, it provided me an excuse to come back.

Honestly, I didn't think I was going to need any excuses.

 

After work I almost went straight home to go to bed - alone, in my own bed, with a heating pad and some aspirin - but my newly awakened libido slapped that idea down as quickly as it came up.  His prediction about my period was right on track and I felt awful, sort of achy and tense, but there was an underlying twinge of what I could only label as needy desire under the discomfort.  I really, _really_ wanted his hands on me...and maybe his mouth too, if I could lure him out from behind the bar.  As it turned out, luring wasn't necessary, because the moment I walked into the pub he tossed his towel to Ewan and followed me to the back room.

As soon as the door shut behind us I turned and pressed myself up against him.  I was never this forward, ever, but he allowed me to drape myself around him as he bent his head to my ear and whispered, "What do you need girly?"

I groaned, not really sure what my answer should be.  There wasn't much we could do, but I needed _something_ or I was going to go nuts.  That cat-in-heat feeling was back and I knew he could either sense it or smell it, because his hands started roaming all over me, immediately retaking the control that I had claimed at the start.  He moved toward the chair by the desk and tugged me along with his finger hooked in the waistband of my skirt.  

"Come here."

He sat down and I sat on his lap facing him, my knees on either side of his hips, scooching my tight skirt up my thighs to get comfortable while he unbuttoned my blouse and hooked a finger under the front closure of my bra, popping it open.

"You're better at that than you should be," I scolded him, draping my arms over his shoulders as he lowered his head to my chest; he wasted no time in taking my left nipple into his mouth sucking it gently for a moment, waiting for my sudden reaction to his warm mouth on my skin to settle back down.  My back had arched and I had dropped my head back with a groan, moving slightly away from him, so he slid his broad palms up to the middle of my back and pulled me back toward him again.

"Be still girly," he mumbled from inside my blouse.  "If you want me to chase you around the room, that's a whole other game entirely."

I wriggled on his lap just slightly and straightened my back.  He resumed his delicious torment, sucking at my nipple till it hardened in his mouth and became so sensitive that I had to bite my lip to keep from making too much noise.  When I reached the point where I began grinding my crotch on his thigh, he pulled it far into his mouth and tugged, letting it pop out with a wet smacking sound as he moved across to my other breast and began nibbling there.  

His hand slipped down between my legs and pressed against my panties.  I sucked in my breath and pulled away, looking him in the eyes as I quietly pleaded with him not to.

His expression changed quickly to concern.  "What's wrong baby?"

"I got my period today - just like you said, good call on that by the way."  I scooted back toward his knees, trying to get away from his invading hand.  He kept pressing it further up under me and I squirmed, whining in protest.

"I know, I smelled you as soon as you came in."  His fingers moved around my panties to push against my opening.  "What do you use?"

"Diva cup.  Stop, please..."

"Yeah?  We can still have sex with that in."  He scooted me toward him again and let one finger slip into me, causing my breath to catch roughly in my throat.  I really wanted him to stop, but apparently _please_  just wasn't going to work here.

"Yeah, we could - _if I felt like it."_

He stopped moving his finger and looked at me.  "Are you not feeling well?"  His hand moved from between my legs to press against my stomach and I shook my head, grimacing.  "Does it hurt?"  I nodded and he pressed a little harder, massaging around my bellybutton with his strong fingers while I laid my forehead on his shoulder and stopped resisting him.  His voice was much softer when he nudged his lips against my temple.  "Orgasms can relieve cramps, baby.  Why don't you let me help you feel better."

I still wasn't comfortable with the idea of him touching me there, much less putting his fingers inside me, but as he stood up with me in his arms and laid me down on the couch and spread my legs to either side, laying down next to me with his arm across my belly and his hand pressing gently against my crotch, my apprehension slowly drained away and was replaced with a quickly building desire that his fingers worked deftly to satisfy.  To help me along, he tucked my shoulder under him so he could reach my breasts, sucking and licking my nipples again until I completely relaxed and let him bring me to orgasm.  It was slow and sensual and gentle and he didn't talk, just let me concentrate on the pleasure he was giving me without having to divide my attention between feeling the sensations and listening to his words.  And when I was done, he readjusted my panties and took me by the wrist, giving me a quietly pleading look as he pressed my hand against the zipper of his jeans.  The hard bulge there made me flinch when I touched it.

"Your scent is driving me insane...I can smell your blood..."  He pushed his hips toward me and groaned.  "Can you help me, baby girl?"

His eyes were almost black, his pupils were so dilated.  It was a little bit scary, coupled with the erratic way he was suddenly breathing.  I nodded and turned onto my side next to him.  "Of course, baby," I whispered soothingly as I tugged his pants open, slipping my hand inside to stroke him a bit before pulling him out; he was completely engorged and I had to wriggle his jeans down a bit to free him.  His eyes closed tightly when I gripped his cock and slid my hand down the shaft.  "Is this good?"

He moved closer to me and nudged his face up against my neck.  "So good, baby," he whispered as he bit down gently over my jugular.  As soon as his teeth pinched my skin I whimpered a little and he pulled back, his eyes snapping open.  "Sorry, sorry...shit...lost myself for a second."  He drew his face back and looked into my eyes, making sure I was okay.

It hadn't been a hard bite but it startled me.  He'd bitten me so many times that I should have been used to it, and in truth I think I was - but something about the placement gave me a cold, violent shiver that raced down my spine.  I felt like my last dream, the one I had no memory of, had just been tweaked and instead of giving me images, I was getting sensations.  His teeth over my artery suddenly seemed frighteningly familiar...like his breathing against my ear had the night before.  But I still didn't know why, or in what context they were familiar to me.

"Did that hurt?" he asked, his hands moving to grip my hips while his mouth returned to my throat to nuzzle softly.  His rapid heartbeat pounded against my shoulder and his touch turned gentle again, so I pushed the oddly unwelcome feeling of deja vu out of my head and turned my attention back to him.  

"No, it's okay - I just wasn't expecting it."

"Sorry, girlybits."

A giggle came up and escaped before I could catch it.  There was one he hadn't called me in a while.  Chris said it was the same as calling me a cunt, only in a way that wouldn't get him slapped.  I could feel him smiling against my throat but judging by the way his chest was heaving, he needed some relief quickly.  I shifted around so I could grasp his cock with both hands and started stroking him.

"Hard enough?"

"Hmmm...harder, please.  Much harder."

I obeyed, but this wasn't really where my natural talent lay - I had a hard time with hand jobs because I was always stuck in disbelief that what I thought was a deathgrip could somehow not be enough.  He moved his hand down to lay it over mine, squeezing, showing me how much harder I could hold him.  "You won't hurt me, baby.  Don't be scared.  You can't hurt me."  

I stroked him firmly a few times but the overwhelming concern that I was going to break him kept making me lose my rhythm.  I knew I would end up frustrating both of us if I kept trying, so I finally scooted away from him and turned over so that my back was to him.  He gave me a confused "Hm?" when I let go, but quickly gathered me back against him and wrapped his long arms around my front.

"What does this mean?" he asked in a suggestive whisper against the back of my ear.  "Can I rub against your sweet little ass?"

"Mmm hmm.  I'm stuck in my head tonight, I'm sorry..."

He pulled my hair back so he could kiss the back of my neck.  "Shhhh, it's okay sweetheart.  This is way higher on my list than a hand job."

I turned my face so he could extend his trail of kisses across my cheekbone.  "What list would that be?"

"The list of my favorite things to do with your delectable little body.  Rubbing my cock against your ass rates higher than being stroked off."  I pushed back against him, rubbing my bottom against his groin.   _"Way_ higher."

Indicating that talk time was over, he pulled my panties down to my thighs and slipped his cock in between my cheeks, rubbing hard against me, his hands holding my hips still so that the friction would be more intense.  I pushed back to try to help but he moved one hand to the small of my back, pushing against it while pulling back on my hip with the other so that I was immobilized.  One day I was going to have to ask him why he knew so many methods for making a woman lie still, but for now all I truly cared about was helping him get off.  My stomach felt so much better after the orgasm he'd given me, I would have given him a blowjob on the bar in front of everyone out front if he'd asked it of me.

He panted behind me for a few minutes until I felt him reaching his peak, his hot breath making the back of my neck damp as he pumped against me.  Feeling a sudden rush of boldness, probably brought on by the blast of hormones my own orgasm had dosed me up with, I reached back and did something I'd never done before - I nudged my hand under his cock and took his balls in my palm, squeezing them gently as I whispered for him to come in my ass.  I felt his body tense up as he immediately shifted, moving his hands up to grip my shoulders as he bit down on the back of my neck to get himself under control.  "Are you sure?" he asked in a breathless whisper, already moving his cock up to find my opening.  "I don't want to hurt you, baby."

I nodded and pushed back again, grinding into him to assure him it was okay.  He reached around me and grabbed my hand.  "Lock your elbow," he ordered as he pulled it behind me and put my hand flat on his upper thigh.  "Keep it straight, if I push too hard or too far you can stop me this way."  The urgency in his voice made me a little bit nervous but I said okay and did as he told me, straightening my arm so that all it would take was a push to put distance between us.  He'd taken me this way before, but only once, and that time he'd been completely in control of himself.  This time I wasn't so sure.  We were dealing with a full-on hormonal overload and his tone didn't sound quite as confident as I was used to.

The sudden invasive sensation of his finger pushing into me yanked me out of my worries and I gasped, trying hard not to arch away from him as he pressed in a second to quickly stretch me before nudging just the head of his cock in.  I pushed back against his thigh with my arm locked to let him know that was far enough, and he respected it, pushing in with just a few shallow thrusts before he shuddered violently and groaned against my back.  He spilled into me with a last jerk of his hips and I scooted away from him a little so that his cock slipped out of me.  

"Are you okay?" I whispered, wriggling around onto my side so that I was facing him again.  I tugged my skirt down so that it covered my bits, just barely, but he ran his hand up over my asscheek and rested it there with an affectionate squeeze.

"Better now, for sure," he said with a grin.  He was out of breath and his face was flushed and sweaty.  I unstuck one damp strand of his glossy black hair from his forehead and scooted up to kiss his nose.  "Ewan is on his way, do you care if he sees us?"

"What?!"

He moved his hand off my rear and pulled my skirt down so that I was covered, then hugged me close to him so that my exposed chest was hidden just as the door opened and his assistant's spiky blonde head appeared.

"Hey Tommy _HOLY FUCKING HELL!!"_

I groaned and buried my face against the front of Tom's shirt, hoping none of my girl stuff was hanging out anywhere.  Ewan was a nice guy, but that didn't mean I wanted him to know I had a birthmark below my left buttcheek.  He stammered for a moment, then recovered enough to pretend like he wasn't seeing the aftermath of two people fucking on the office couch.

"Hey Anja, how you doing?"

I waved halfheartedly with one hand.  "Hey Ewan."

"Um, I hate to ask, Tommy, but - when you're, you know, _able,_ can you show me how to hook up those new spigots?  Tap's about dry."

Tom cleared his throat.  "Yeah, sure.  I'll be out in a few."

"Sure, take your time.  Sorry to interrupt.  Continue, or whatever."

The door closed and we could hear him cackling as he went back to the bar.

"Oh my god."

Tom started laughing.  "Sorry I couldn't warn you sooner, I didn't hear him till he was right there."  He helped me sit up and began tucking himself back into his pants as I rehooked my bra and buttoned my blouse.

"You heard him?  All I could hear was general people noise from out there.  How did you know it was him?"

He shrugged and ran his fingers through my hair to smooth it.  "I just have good hearing I guess."  He stood up and held his hand out to me; I took it and let him pull me up, fixing my panties and straightening my skirt as best I could.  As I fussed with my shoes he pulled me against him and slid his hands down to squeeze my ass.

"Thank you for the use of your sweet little bottom," he whispered against the top of my head.  I looked up at him and gave him a smile.

"Thank you for the cramp relief."

"Did it work?"

"It did.  I'll be back for more of that."

He swatted my backside as I bent over to readjust a stubborn shoe.  "I'm off to help my clueless assistant," he said as he headed for the door.  "Shut this behind you.  There's tissues and bar rags in the pantry if you want to clean up in here."  He stopped at the door and grinned at me, a half smile full of devilishly veiled threat.  "Did you follow my instructions this morning?"

I grinned back, heading for the desk to find something to mop up the slick liquid that was starting to ooze uncomfortably out of me.  Yeah, Kady was going to smell him on me for sure.  I silently hoped she skipped the pub tonight and turned in early so I wouldn't have to deal with her.

"You'll find out when you get home."

He winked and ducked out the door.

 _Well that was different_ I thought as I made myself presentable.  Ewan knew about us now.  I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but I did know that it didn't fill me with the sense of dread or shame that I was expecting. In fact, I felt just the slightest bit happy that we weren't a secret.  Tom didn't seem worried about it...and in that moment, I decided I wouldn't be either.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

Work kept me far too busy for the next several days, both during work hours and after.  I texted Tom a couple of times, he called me twice, and after the third night without seeing each other we managed to squeeze in a quick dinner together at the pub.  It was near closing and he had managed to chase out most of the noisy regulars and called cabs for all the drunks, so we had the place mostly to ourselves while Ewan swept the floors and a few stragglers chatted at the bar.  Tom queued up a couple of slow songs on the jukebox and held his hand out to me, pulling me to him slowly when I took it.

I didn't know if this was romance or not, but it was nice, whatever it was.  He was so tall that I had to look straight up to see his face when I was this close to him, but when we were dancing my head fit right into that part in the middle of his chest where it dipped in a bit over his sternum, close enough to his heart to feel it beating against my ear.  It was quickly becoming my favorite place to be.  He swayed me slowly with his arms wrapped tightly around my back, bending just a bit so that he could put his chin on top of my head.

He'd been particularly attentive all evening and I knew he was missing me; I was missing him more than I cared to admit, but I could tell that he knew it whether I said anything or not.  There was no hiding anything from him.  We settled in at our table and were eating the dinner Ewan cooked for us when I decided now was as good a time as any to broach the subject of Kady's strange comment about his past.  I put my glass down and stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge his projected level of cooperation.  He could be stubborn and purposefully obtuse if asked a question he didn't want to answer, but it had been eating away at the back of my mind for a while, so I took a long swallow of my wine and decided to just plow headfirst into it - if he didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't, and I would respect that.  But I had to at least ask, for my own curiosity.  

I fiddled with the rim of my glass while he rolled up a forkfull of spaghetti.

"Kady said you're a lost boy."

He didn't even react, just finished his bite and put his fork down to grab his beer.  He looked at me and sort of raised his eyebrow a bit.

"What, you mean like Peter Pan?"

"Yeah, sort of, I guess."

He took a swig of beer and set the bottle down.  "You'll have to elaborate because I don't even know what that means."

"You know - the lost boys, they ran away from home or whatever, and...I dunno, lived somewhere else, on their own."  I was starting to feel kind of stupid, hearing myself say it.  I decided to drop the euphemisms and just go for the blunt.  "Did you run away when you were a kid?"

He smiled.  "Didn't everybody?"

"No.  I didn't, anyway."  I had the distinct feeling he was going to play dumb to avoid answering me, so I decided to let it drop and went back to my dinner.  After several long moments of watching me eat, he leaned back in his seat and nodded, just barely.

"Actually, yes, I did."

I felt a shiver of excitement at the possibility of him actually sharing something secret with me.  This was a first, at least as far as his personal life was concerned.  I decided not to push my luck too much, lest he get tightlipped again.  

"You were a runaway?"

"Yes."

"You never went back home?"

"No."

"Why?"

He shrugged and glanced over toward the door.  "I didn't want to."

"How old were you?"

His eyes came back to mine and for the briefest of moments they were soft and innocent, almost pained, and then in the space of a blink they went icy and unfeeling.  The shiver of excitement I'd felt a few moments ago immediately turned to a cold chill.

"Fifteen."

I almost choked.  Fifteen?  How could a child of fifteen survive on their own?

"Were you abused?"  It came out before I realized what I was saying and I flinched, ready to apologize and drop it, but it didn't seem to phase him in the least.

"Yes.  My stepdad molested my sister and I went off on him.  Ended up getting myself locked in a closet for two weeks.  When I got out, I tried to kill him and he beat me half to death."

I tried hard not to stare at him, but he wasn't looking away and I felt like it would be insulting to him if I broke our eye contact.  What he'd just said was shocking but I didn't want him to think I was scandalized by it.  His tone of voice was like someone discussing baseball scores.  That was the chilling part.

"How old were you when that happened?"

"Twelve."  He was still looking straight at me, one arm draped carelessly over the back of the booth and the other hand resting on the table, not moving.  "That was the last straw for my mum, she called the police - of course CPS got involved and they took me and my sister away." 

I didn't want to hear any more, but he had a look on his face of _you asked, now you listen._

"We were fostered out into separate homes, but we were always allowed to stay in contact.  I got shuffled around a lot."  He looked out the windows for a long moment, then picked up his beer, gesturing with it. "I wasn't a 'good fit' for, like, three different homes before I ended up in one halfway 'cross the country from Emma."  He gave me a sardonic grin.  "I wasn't a good fit there either."

I tried to imagine him as a kid, probably mean and sarcastic and deviously smart, always getting into trouble.  But all I kept seeing was a twelve year old boy, too skinny and too tall for his age with coal black hair and big blue eyes, locked in a closet for defending his little sister.  I felt a lump coming up in my throat and hoped the story would end soon, and end well...I regretted asking for it.

"Emma got sent to another home, I dunno what happened at her first one, maybe they didn't want her any more.  After a few weeks she called me, told me the dad in her new home was looking at her funny, making her nervous.  I ran away from the home I was in so I could be closer to her, keep an eye on her.  Made it halfway across the States, hitchhiking and stowing away on buses and in the back of trucks."  He took another swig of his beer and smiled, but not at me.  "That was a trip.  Lost my virginity to a woman in her thirties who picked me up in a bus station in New Mexico."

He got a faraway look in his eyes that matched the little smile on his lips.  Apparently it was a good memory in the middle of a bunch of bad ones, probably made all the sweeter by the bitterness of everything else around it.  I wondered if he remembered her name.

"When I got there I saw what this guy, this _dad,_ was doing to my sister...and I fixed it to where he wouldn't do it anymore."

There was a long pause...after what seemed like an eternity, I finally found the nerve to speak.  "Fixed it?"

The grin that came to his lips was chilling in its revelation that there was more to the story, too much more, but he had no intention of telling it.  He nodded.

"Fixed it." 

 

"So nobody in your family knows where you are, except your sister?"

He nodded again, tossing his empty bottle to Ewan as he walked past.  "That's how I want it."

"So what did you do after you...fixed it?"

"I just never went back.  Got a job, met some people.  Stayed with a friend, and his mom eventually figured out that I didn't have a home to go to when I left their house every night, so she took me in."

"Let me guess...Chris?"

"Yup."

"I thought you two seemed more like brothers than just buddies.  That's cool."  I tried to play off the unsettled feeling that was gnawing at the pit of my stomach by subtly changing the subject a bit.  "So protecting women from predatory males has sort of always been your thing, huh?  That's admirable."

He looked at me and I noticed his eyes had shifted from their usual mixed aquamarine to something I could only describe as cold steel, almost a silver grey.  Like a wolf's eyes, staring at you across a snowy field, in that moment right before you realize he's not going to just walk away.

 

He pulled his keys from his back pocket and took one off the ring, holding it out to me.  

"What's that to?"

"My place.  Let yourself in any time you want."  He wrapped his fingers around mine as I reached for the key to take it.  "That includes the middle of the night, if you have a bad dream and need to be held."

I stared at the key between my fingers, a little dizzy from the abrupt shift in our interaction.  "Does this mean we're official?" I asked teasingly, not sure what was going through his head at that moment.  The look on his face said absolutely nothing about what he'd just finished telling me.

"It means you're officially allowed into my place whenever you want," he said with a grin.  "And I expect you to use it."

I dropped the key into my bag and watched him as he cleared our dishes and said something to Ewan behind the bar; when he came back to our table he pulled a chair around so that it was close to mine and sat down, leaning forward till his face was just inches from my neck.

"I'm closing in a few minutes."  His warm breath was caressing my throat and I felt that familiar heated churning start in my stomach.  "If you want to go warm my bed, I'll be done here in an hour."

I turned my face to his and his lips brushed against my chin.  He needed a shave, which set off all kinds of horribly wonderful thoughts of whisker burn on the insides of my thighs and across my belly, maybe even on the small of my back.  The heat in my stomach flared up into a nice tidy fire, not quite blazing, but getting there.  He could do this to me so easily, with just a word or a look, hell sometimes just by crinkling his nose up from across the room, his way of letting me know he'd caught my scent through the crowd.  

But I had a stack of case files at home that demanded at least another six hours of work before I could even think about catching some sleep, so we kissed goodnight and he called me a cab.  I whined that I missed him and he pressed another kiss to my forehead as he waited outside with me, hugging me to him and stroking my chin with his fingertip.  "When you're done with this case we'll have more time," he assured me.  I knew he was right, of course, but he was sniffing me again and that tidy little fire was starting to blaze a bit.  

He put me in my cab and pressed his hand to the outside of the window as he told the driver my address.  I put my hand against his on the inside, and when he looked at me he smiled - it was a curious little smile, sort of wistful and childlike, and all I could think of all the way home was Tom at fifteen, hitchhiking across the country, never to be seen again by anyone who knew him.

 

I let myself quietly into his apartment later that night and climbed into bed next to him.  He was asleep but seemed to know I was there; as I scooted in beside him and curled up to his side, he turned and slipped an arm across my hip.

"Hey baby girl," he whispered after I'd settled.

"Sorry," I whispered back.  "I didn't want to wake you up."

He tugged me a little closer, his eyes closed, pressing his lips to my forehead.  "Why are you here?"

I honestly wasn't sure.  I didn't answer, so he slipped a knee between my legs and gave my crotch a nudge.

"Were you horny?"

I squirmed to put some space between us but his arms came up around me and kept me from getting too far.  "I might have been, a little."

"And are you now?"

His eyes were still closed.  He seemed like he would be content to go right back to sleep, depending on my answer.  

"Maybe.  A little."

He chuckled.  "So noncommittal, girly."  He rolled over onto his back and stretched out.  "Either fuck me or go to sleep, your call."

 

I ended up fucking him.  He was almost asleep again by the time I made up my mind, so when I climbed on top of him and started to stroke him into arousal by grinding down on him, he groaned and put his hands on my hips but didn't say anything.  He didn't even open his eyes for a long time, until I took one of his hands and pulled it up to my mouth to suck his fingers.  Then his eyes opened, and he watched as I pushed his index finger into my mouth, sucking and licking it, biting down on his knuckle till he groaned again.

"You want that in you?" he finally asked.  I nodded enthusiastically and he laughed.  "Greedy little bitch."

He let me suck it a little longer, his eyes watching me hungrily before he pulled his hand away and slipped it under me; he pushed the wet finger into me roughly and pressed hard, reaching as far up into me as he could until he was pushing against my cervix and I lifted up on my knees, wincing.  

"Oh no you don't, girly," he scolded me, pulling me back down on him with his other hand gripped firmly on my hip.  "Are you up for a little bit of rough?"

This was the first time he'd ever said that and I realized suddenly that he was asking my permission to hurt me.  He'd told me before - _I don't hurt women unless we've agreed to it beforehand._ This must be the beforehand.

I wasn't sure what to say.

He sat up under me, slipping his finger out and encircling me with his arms.  He pulled me close to his chest and held me for a long while, which I found confusing based on where I had assumed this was going - a little bit of rough meant pain, didn't it?  So why was he cuddling me?

"I don't know what that means," I finally whispered against his warm chest, where I could feel his heart pounding, strong and steady.  He squeezed me a little tighter and pressed his face into my hair.

"Do you remember what I told you?"

I did, actually...it had never left my mind since the night he said it and I thought about it at least once a day.  It made me feel safe and warm.

"A good alpha male will never hurt his female...he takes care of her and protects her."

He ran his big hands up through my hair, breathing deeply as he pressed handfuls of it to his nose and inhaled.  

"Very good, baby girl.  I'll never injure you.  You never need to be afraid of me that way.  But sometimes the males of the pack like to play rough, and the female can end up a bit bloodied..."  He moved me away from his chest enough to look into my face, gauging my reaction.  "But he will always lick her clean and care for her afterward."

A cold chill of nervous tension crept its way up my spine, spreading out through my body like frost inching across a frozen pond.  The only place I felt warm now was where his hands were stroking my sides, rubbing gently up and down my ribcage.  But despite what I could only identify as rising fear, something in his voice and in the gentle look in his eyes kept me from saying no.

I gave my approval.

 

He shifted us so that he could lay me on my back and moved beside me.  His hands touched me, stroked me, awakening arousal in me where that cold tension had been just moments before.

"I won't hit you," he reassured me, aware of my obvious apprehension.  "I won't mark your face.  I won't endanger your safety and I won't be cruel."  He lowered his face to mine and kissed me lightly on the lips. "What I _will_ do is be rough with you...bruise you...subdue and dominate you completely...and give you pain tempered with pleasure."  He drew his face away and tapped his fingertips lightly on my closed eyelids. "Are you okay with all this?"

I couldn't open my eyes; I didn't even try.  I knew I'd be unable to look at him through the heavy veil of heated arousal that had reared its snarling head inside the pit of my stomach.  The fire was stoked, it was flaming now.  There was nothing I could do to stop it.

"You can hit me," I said, my voice an agonized whisper.  "Please... _please do."_

My eyes snapped open in surprise at what I'd said and I tried to cover my face with my hands, but Tom grabbed my wrists and held them away.  "Shhh, girl...it's okay.  You can tell me what you want.  You can also tell me what you don't want.  I'll respect it."  He laid my hands back down on my stomach and released them.  "I don't hit.  But I recall you saying you wanted a spanking once.  We might have to consider that one day, if you're especially deserving and can piss me off badly enough."

I nodded, scared again, not of him but of myself.  What the hell was I thinking, asking him to hit me?  The man was huge, lean but powerfully built, extremely strong and his hands were massive.  And here I was, asking for a beating.   _Stupid.  Fucking insane._

But god help me, I couldn't deny that I wanted more than anything for him to raise his hand to me.  I didn't even know why.  I'd never been hit in my life with the exception of Eric smacking me outside the pub, and it was a pretty fair assumption that that particular event hadn't sparked any weird fetish in me.  

Tom was watching me as I argued internally with myself, obviously enjoying the silent struggle I was having with my psyche.  After a few moments he scooted out of the bed and went to the dresser, taking out a belt and what looked like a silk scarf; he came back to the bed and I watched him as he laid the two items next to me.

"You can touch them," he said gently when he saw me looking at them.  I reached over and tentatively put my finger out to touch the belt.  It was well worn, frayed along the edges.  I recognized it.  The one he wore every day.  "Interesting," he said, his voice quiet, a slow grin coming to his face.

"What?"

"You touched the belt first.  I would have thought you would reach for the scarf."  He picked it up and dangled it over me, showing me its beautiful emerald green color, how the soft silken fabric caught the light. His eyes were sparkling when he let it drop onto my stomach to pool softly between my bellybutton and my pubic bone.  "What do you think I'm going to do with these, Anja?"

I shook my head, my tongue mute; I had no idea what any of it was for but I had my suspicions.  

"What do you _want_ me to do with them, Anja?"

I sat up and reached for the belt again, picking it up slowly.  I didn't know what to say, so I just held it out to him with my head down.  He took it from my hands and pressed one palm against my cheek, letting me push my face against it as he stroked me lovingly.  "Good girl...you're right, it's not your decision, is it?"

I shook my head.  Something deep inside was telling me that I should be saying _Yes Sir, No Sir_ instead of shaking my head or nodding, but something else said _no, that's not what he's like, it's not what he wants from you._  It wasn't about respect and deference.  It was about the subduing and dominating.  Pure, primal, dirty, and simple.  Surprisingly, refreshingly simple.  

I was pulled from my analysis of the situation by his hand suddenly leaving my face and moving down to grasp my wrist, pulling my arm out in front of me - not exactly rough, but not gentle either - followed by the other.  "Clasp your hands together, baby," he ordered me in a voice that was quiet and low but still managed to rumble through me, an echo through a cave.  I obeyed and he immediately wrapped the belt around my wrists,  looping it into a twisted knot just above my thumbs.  He pulled it tight, then looked at me as he raised my bound hands between us.  "Is it too tight?" he asked, slipping his fingers under the leather.  When I shook my head, he gave me a very serious look and told me, "Don't pull against it or it will hurt.  Do you understand?  If you do, I won't stop to fix it, you'll just have to suffer."

His hands moved down to my lap then, to retrieve the silken scarf; he turned me so that my back was to him and draped it over my eyes, tying it firmly in a knot behind my head.

"Can you see anything, Anja?"

"No."

"Good."  I heard a low chuckle from somewhere behind me.  "Then lets begin."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

Kindness is often tempered with cruelty, we as humans just don't notice it because we're so happy to receive kindness in any form that we willingly overlook whatever it's mixed with.

My hands were bound, but he'd bound them in front of me, allowing me the ability to balance myself, brace myself, and perhaps most blessedly, I was able to raise my hands to my face so that I could gnaw on the leather belt that bound them together.  I would never have guessed how much of a kindness such a thing could be until I found myself left with nothing but that.

Tom was behind me, again, pounding into me with all the brute force and barely contained lust that I knew he had in him, but until this moment had only sensed or seen glimpses of.  Now I knew it was there and we had been formally introduced.  I chewed the belt to keep from screaming, but the need to scream wasn't from pain, it was from the pure unbound intensity of everything he was doing to me.  He waited until I was overcome by it once again and pulled out of me, shifting quickly from one opening to the other, where he slowed his thrusting so that he wouldn't injure me.  He'd already been there at least three times, I'd lost count by this point, but each time it still hurt just enough to wake everything up all over again.  I kept myself from crying out by biting down hard on my restraint.  As his engorged cock slid deep into me and I arched my back to push my ass up further for him, all I could think was how grateful I was that he had let me have this, something to chew on, a way to keep myself grounded enough that I didn't lose all sense of who I was.  It was hard enough just to stay conscious.

_"Th-thank you,"_ I finally managed to sob out, breathless and muffled because the leather was between my teeth.  I felt his hand slide up my back, stroking my spine, and he slowed his thrusts to bend forward and plant a kiss on the small of my back.  

"You're welcome, sweet girl."  His hand slid further up my back till it was at the base of my neck, squeezing gently, his long fingers wrapping slowly around my throat till I was suddenly aware that he had me immobilized.  A chill ripped through me and I shuddered, eliciting a low, rumbling chuckle from him as his fingers squeezed just a little bit tighter.  

And then the game changed entirely.  

The next thing I felt was a stinging slap against my left asscheek.  It was hard, so hard that it would have knocked me forward if I hadn't had my hands up under my face, bracing myself with my elbows. Tempered kindnesses.

The surprise as well as the pain tore a cry from my throat and I sobbed into the sheets, my whole body quivering with a new kind of desire, a kind that throbbed and pulsed with a dizzying combination of lust and arousal and total abandon. _Dear god I wanted more of that._

His hand was rubbing my bottom where he'd hit me, soothing the sting.  "Do you want it again, Anja?"

I nodded, pushing my face further into the sheets and my ass further toward him.  He was still inside me and I was tensed so hard that the pressure on his cock must have been incredible.  His voice still had its authoritative edge, showing he was still in control, but there was a breathlessness to it that had nothing to do with being tired, and I wanted him to talk to me more, to reassure me, to keep me aware that it was him back there, it was him causing the pain, _it was him and it was okay._

"Shhhh," he soothed me, as if he'd heard my thoughts.  Uncanny how he always did that, made me feel like he knew what was going on in my head, sometimes even when I didn't know myself.  Maybe especially then.  He nudged a little further into me and there was another sudden sting, the hard pressure of his hand hitting my ass, and another cry tore out of my throat.  I was about to come, my pussy throbbing so hard, weeping its warm juices and convulsing, empty of his cock as it was pressed into the other opening above it.  I struggled to catch my breath, whimpering and moaning as I let myself be lost to the overwhelming sensations of being filled, dominated, restrained, and hurt all at once.  My nervous system was on overload and I lay there with my chest on the bed, my ass in the air, begging him for more.  He knew what I needed and pulled out, plunging himself deep into my womb again, filling it so satisfyingly as his hand came down on me once again.

He hadn't been lying when he'd said I would cry if he ever spanked me - and though it wasn't truly the kind of spanking I wanted, it was close enough.  He'd shown me what his hand felt like on my ass and now I knew.  It hurt and I could feel my cheeks bruising beneath the weight of his hand each time he struck me.  It was wonderful, and each time I wanted him to do it again, to remind me that I was his to do with as he pleased, and that what he pleased was to give me everything I wanted while taking his own pleasure.  I didn't care if it was brutal - the pain was worth the soothing and each time I cried out, he listened.  If my cries became too anguished, he slowed or stopped long enough to comfort me, checking me for injury, lovingly calming me till I was ready to continue.  

"Do you need more, baby girl?"

I struggled to answer him, afraid that if I failed to say yes he would stop.  His voice had that soothing tone he used when he was calming me, using it to perfect effect now so that I wouldn't be afraid of what was coming.  I nodded frantically, trying to form the words while he stroked my bottom, preparing it for yet another bruising blow.  I was so close he could have made me come just by telling me to.

The next one drove me over the edge and I screamed as my orgasm started; he thrust hard into me at the same moment his hand made contact, almost too hard, but I wanted it and I didn't want him to stop no matter what.  He wasn't even touching my clit, there was no friction against it of any kind, but I climaxed hard and deep and it didn't end, it just kept going on and on, and he kept me from pulling away with a bruising grip on my hips.

"Oh no you don't girly," he growled as I struggled to put space between us, just for a moment, just long enough to slow the overwhelming white hot shockwaves that were blinding me and taking away my ability to even think straight.  "You take it baby, you take it all and you let me hear you scream for more."  He reached down and grasped a handful of my hair, tugging my head back, uncovering my face from the damp sheets where I'd had it buried.   _"Scream Anja, scream hard.  Give me your tears, baby."_

I obeyed, not that there was any other option.  He gave me another hard slap on the ass, harder this time than the previous three.  It was almost too much and I stopped trying to contain my crying, letting it go, sobbing as he pushed into me.  He hit me one more time and it took my breath away; I tensed up so hard that the pressure on his cock forced him over the edge and he came just as hard as I had, slamming into me violently enough to push me forward on the bed, a cry ripping from his own throat to fight with mine for dominance in the otherwise quiet room, now full to bursting with the brutal sounds of our fierce coupling.  

Neither of us could breathe, but our lungs kept trying, our voices struggling through panting gasps to be heard, but neither one of us could find enough breath to even utter a curse.

 

When we'd both recovered enough to move again, he finally turned me over and pulled me up onto my knees, lifting my arms up and slipping them over his head so that my bound wrists were behind his neck. He lifted my legs around him and let us both fall onto the bed, allowing more of his weight than was comfortable to crash down on top of me; but this night wasn't about comfort and I knew it.  I wanted him to make me uncomfortable, to drag me out of my little realm of nice propriety I lived in, to sully me and make me dirty so I would have a secret to tease people with behind my innocent smile.  I wanted to be jagged and bleeding and raw inside where nobody knew it but me.  I wanted to be like him.

 

He licked his way down to my breasts and sucked at my nipples till he and I were both hard and soft, respectively, and we fit together once again in a heated joining of passion and lust that we just couldn't seem to quench.

It went on like that all night, like something had been let loose inside both of us and all we could do was brutalize each other, his dominance keeping me submissive, my submission encouraging his dominance. And as the night progressed and he became rougher, I found myself becoming tougher.  It took more and more to get me to the point where he felt the need to soothe me.  I begged for more, refused when he offered to let me rest, found myself gnawing on the belt less.  My hips were sore, not from his bruising grip as he held me still beneath his thrusts, but from me arching back into him, stressing my hip sockets to their limits, spreading my legs as wide as I could get them, trying to get myself as close to him and as open for him as I could.  My knees hurt from supporting our combined weight when he took me from behind, my shoulders ached from my upper body being pushed into the bed or from trying to hold onto him with my hands bound, and my back ached with the relentless pounding pressure of his body slamming into mine.

And I loved every ache, every pain, every sting, every bruise.  I couldn't see myself; he'd left me blindfolded, only moving it slightly for a moment as he pressed a glass of cool water to my lips during one of our few pauses, letting me orient myself.  But I knew my body was peppered with bite marks and bruises from his mouth sucking and biting at my skin, marking me all over.  

 

Hours later he removed the blindfold and the first thing I saw was his face, just inches from mine.  He looked almost angelic...he couldn't possibly have been the one doing all those things to my body, all those deliciously depraved acts that we'd indulged in for the entire night - but there was no one else, so it must have been him.  

He moved down to my legs and lifted my ankle to his lips, kissing every mark he'd left on me as he worked his way slowly upward.  He kissed me so many times I lost count before he reached my hip.  "One for every time you screamed, every time you sobbed, every time you cried. There's a mark for every tear I pulled from you, every gasping cry I made you give me.   _These are my thank-you's."_  

I knew then that there was something very dark and very painful deep inside him and the only way he knew to soothe it was to make me suffer with him.  Since I couldn't share his emotional pain, he pushed it out of himself and into me physically.  With my complete and unreserved permission.

I'd awakened it myself, in the pub, when I'd questioned him about his past.   _I'd done this to him._  But I'd helped him through it without realizing what was happening, and now he was smiling at me, his face almost childlike in its calmness and peace.  As I looked up at him I could see the twelve year old boy in the closet.  The tears and sobs he'd forced out of me were his own, kept silent in the dark of that lonely cage. He had self-soothed through me.

He removed the belt from my wrists then, slowly and gently, rubbing my skin to help the circulation flow freely again, tenderly kissing the red marks it had left.  The pain of having it off was suddenly worse than the discomfort of having it on, and he squeezed my hands and fingers gently to ease the pinpricks as my nerve endings reawakened.  I watched him as he tended to me, admiring his beauty and his obvious lust for life, but mostly his strength in having survived.

I reached up and touched his face and he pressed his cheek into my hand, his eyes closing.  I saw his chin quiver briefly, for just a moment; or perhaps I'd imagined it, as exhausted as I was.  He turned his face to press his lips against my palm, leaving a kiss there as he finally rolled over off me, settling with a long sigh into the neglected pillow beside us.  He tugged my arm over across his neck and stroked his fingertips up and down the inside of my elbow, pressing lightly on the purplish marks there so that I would whimper against his shoulder.

"Good thing it's winter, you can cover up head to toe tomorrow and no one will ask why."

I smiled my agreement, but silently wished it was summer.  I wanted to show the world.

 

"Do you hurt anywhere?" he asked me quietly, his voice gentle as his hands moved over me.  We'd slept for a little while, then he'd woken me with soft kisses so he could tend to me.  The kisses turned to licks and I remembered what he'd promised me at the start - that he would lick me clean and care for me, soothing whatever aches he'd inflicted.

"I hurt everywhere," I groaned, giggling a little.  "But it's a good hurt."

His mouth traveled my body slowly, tenderly licking and kissing every mark, every bruise, every bite, then he buried his face between my legs and licked me there as well, covering every inch of me, leaving nothing unsoothed.  My knees came up of their own volition and he gripped them with his hands, spreading them, opening me further to his searching tongue as his aftercare swiftly turned into something else entirely.

"Go ahead and come for me again sweetie," he whispered, slurping at me as the sudden reawakening of my arousal manifest itself, wetting his chin and lips.  "You've earned it."  His right hand came up to rub my stomach and his left slipped under me to squeeze my bottom, causing me to gasp in surprise at how much the touch hurt.  He raised his head and looked at me.

"I warned you."

"I know."

He lowered his head again, dragging his tongue between my labia before letting it return to my clit; he suckled there for a few minutes till I started moaning, then he slipped a finger gently into me and curled it just right, hitting that spot far up inside, rubbing it till I begged him to stop as little white fireworks started to go off behind my eyes.  He stroked it in rhythm with his tongue until I gave him one last cry, one final acknowledgement of how much my body would bend to his will, and after my hips stopped jerking in time with the pulsing throbs of my climax he finally stopped and let me rest.

While I was recovering, he went back to taking care of me, turning me over onto my stomach and gently kissing my bruised bottom.

"I think these need special care," he remarked as he watched me flinch with every touch to my red welted skin.  I felt the bed shift as he got up, heard water running and then his footsteps as he returned with a cool rag that he gently laid across my bottom.  He knelt over my back then and took my hair in his hand, tugging it just slightly as he moved it aside; I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck as he whispered, "I owe you one more mark for that last scream."

The mark came in the form of a hard slow bite that sent shockwaves of pain through me, but my only reaction was to grit my teeth and clench my fists in the sheets.  When he was done he licked the bite and then pressed his lips to it, sucking the bruised skin, adding more color to the mark.

"Wear your hair up tomorrow," he whispered against my ear.  "I want everyone to see this one."

I nodded my agreement, promising to obey.  

"You might want to go without panties too - your bottom is a mess."  To make his point, he slapped me lightly but soundly on the ass and chuckled when I yelped in pain.  "That's your own doing."

"I know," I moaned, giggling a bit with my face buried in the sheets again.  "I wanted it."  I turned my face to the side as he stretched out beside me and waited until he'd settled with his nose touching mine. "Thank you for that."  I wanted to add _I know you don't like to hit_  but decided against it, hoping that maybe giving me those few smacks had softened his resolve a bit.  I wanted there to be more.

"Welcome, girly."  He reached up to stroke my face with his fingertips, tracing along my lips before he ran his fingers up into my hair, holding my head still while he kissed me.  "It would appear we have a mutual use for pain," he whispered against my lips. "I have a need to inflict it.  You have a need to accept it."  He kissed me again, tenderly, letting his breath escape in a warm sigh against my mouth.  "It seems we're made for each other, bitch pudding."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	11. Chapter 11

 

He was a different person when the sun came up.  It was almost as if the previous night had been perpetrated by a stand-in, thus the need for the blindfold to keep me from noticing at what point he'd left and his replacement had come in.  But his body bore the marks I'd managed somehow to give him despite my bondage - a bite on his neck, another on his shoulder.  Scratches down his back, red and welted.  More scratches and some pressure marks on his hips, just above his butt, and a few lower down as well.  I almost apologized when I saw them in the harsh morning light, looking like red gashes in his pale skin, but when I looked closer I could see none had actually broken the skin.  He saw me looking and grinned.  "Amateur," he chided with amusement in his voice as he strolled slowly toward the bathroom while I watched him from the bed.  No, there was no mistaking his body, it had definitely been him.  He was so familiar to me now, his body that I loved so much now that it had joined with mine so many times, in so many ways, so intimately and so fiercely.

He interrupted my musings with a knock on the outside of the bathroom door to get my attention.  "Care to join me?"

"Shower?"

"Bath if you want."

A quick glance at the clock showed we had plenty of time; I eased out of bed slowly, noticing every little ache and throb as I sat up.  Tom laughed at me.

"Shut up, creep.  I'm an amateur, remember?"

"Don't worry, we'll turn you into a professional in no time."

"So you're training me to be a prostitute?"

"Of course, my own private little hussy.  And I mean that in the most loving way possible."

I laughed and eased my legs over the edge of the mattress as he disappeared into the bathroom and started the water running;  my feet squished into something and I looked down at the floor to see a little pile of things I hadn't noticed the night before - used condoms, a damp rag, tissues, a mostly empty bottle of lube.  I leaned over to pick up a little tube.  Numbing cream?  When had all this come into play?  I hadn't been aware of any of it, everything had been a rushed whirling vortex of sensations and none of the practical aspects had even occurred to me, but he'd been taking care of everything while I was busy enjoying it all, oblivious behind my blindfold.  This guy surprised me more and more every time I got around him.  As distracted as I was, he could have done anything he wanted, any way he wanted to.  I felt a little bit warm inside knowing he was looking out for me even when I didn't know it.

I went into the bathroom and pressed myself up behind him, laying my face on his back and sliding my arms around his chest.  He'd been putting bubblebath into the tub as he filled it for us and stopped to put his hand over mine, rocking us gently.  "Did you sleep well?" he asked, turning and moving my arms up to hook them around his neck.  He bent to kiss me as he pulled me up against him.

"I did, thank you.  Did you?"

"Oh yes.  I always sleep well when there's a beautiful woman tied up in my bed."

"And a pile of used condoms next to it."

He winked and licked the tip of my nose.  "In with you," he ordered, picking me up and standing me in the tub.  I sat down slowly, gingerly, wincing with pain as the hot water stung my raw underside and the welts on my bottom.  He held me by my hands till I was sitting, then stepped in and sank down behind me, stretching his long legs out on either side of me.  I leaned back against his chest and closed my eyes happily as his arms came up around me to cuddle me close.

"Mmmm," he sighed against the back of my head, his hands sliding slowly over my soapy chest, cupping and squeezing my breasts till my nipples hardened.  I squirmed against him for a moment in protest, but he shushed me while his hand slipped down between my legs to massage me gently.  My protests faded into an ineffectual whimper.

"Oh god Tom...I'm so sore...but that feels so good...why do you do this to me."

He shifted behind me a bit so that his stiffening cock was pressed between his stomach and my back.  "Because I can...and because you love it." He pressed his mouth to my ear.  "Bitch - " a quick pinch to my clit - "pudding."

I was starting to like that name, despite myself.  And I was beginning to like him, a lot.

He plucked at my nipples with his fingers till I moaned, purposefully driving me to intense arousal again.  I groaned and reached up over my head to tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling his head down next to mine, sighing happily.  "It's been so long since I had a lover."

He kissed my ear and chuckled softly into it.  "Is that what I am, Anja?  Am I your lover?"

"Mnn hmm...I'm not sure you're boyfriend material, but lover, absolutely."

"Is that how you'll introduce me to your boss?"

I laughed.  "You want to meet my boss?  What on earth for?"

His cock twitched between us and I wondered briefly if it was in reaction to his handling my breasts or the idea of meeting my employer for what I assumed would be a confrontation of some sort.

"Because I know he lusts after you and I would love to be standing next to you the next time you walk into a meeting after I've scent marked you."

"What would that do?"

"If he's an alpha, he'll recognize that it's my scent all over you."

"And if he's not?"

"Then he'll know you have a lover that doesn't appreciate him flirting with you.  Maybe he'll behave at the christmas party this year."

I turned sideways in the tub, snuggling into him.  "Aren't you a possessive boy."

He wrapped his long arms around me and hugged me tight.  "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.  You're free to come and go as you wish...but I won't share you."

 

After our bath it became obvious he had teased me with the intention of leaving me aroused.  He seemed to like doing that, sending me off to work with wet panties, knowing I'd be uncomfortable and distracted, thinking about him all day while trying to concentrate on my job.  I didn't mind, but it was maddening for the first few hours until I got used to it.  It was obviously going to be another long day at the office.

He held my hand as I stepped out of the tub and wrapped me in a towel, drying me, tending to me, taking care of me.  As he knelt behind me toweling my legs, he slid one hand up to my bottom and pressed his fingers between my cheeks.  I flinched but didn't move away from his touch.  I was getting used to it.

"Do you hurt, inside?" he asked quietly, rubbing me gently.  I nodded.

"A bit."

He pressed his lips to the back of my leg, at the crease where my thigh met my rear.  "I have something that will help."  He stood and lifted me, letting me wrap my legs around his waist as he carried me back to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed with me.  When he bent over to reach for something on the floor, I knew right away he was getting the numbing cream.

A shiver of excited delight immediately surged through me.  He'd touched me, probed me, fingered me, fucked me with fingers and cock both, but that was all during sex or the intimate moments leading up to it. Now we were in the bright morning sunshine with the lights on, clean and freshly bathed, getting ready to go on about our day with no intention of making love again any time soon - and the idea of him putting his fingers inside me with no sex involved was somehow achingly thrilling in its intimacy.  I loved how he seemed to truly enjoy taking care of me, of making sure I was alright, of tending to me to soothe any pains he'd given me.  I loved it almost as much as I loved the sex that gave me those pains and made the tending necessary in the first place.

"Do you want to lie across my lap, or on the bed?"

I pulled my head up from where I'd been resting it on his shoulder and looked at the tube in his hand.  "I...I don't know.  What's that for?"  I knew already, but I wasn't completely certain he had the same thing in mind that I did.

"It's for your cute little bum.  I hurt it, I'm going to make it feel better."  He nuzzled my jawline, breathing warmly against my skin.  "I fix what I break.  I'm quite handy that way."

I smiled and let myself relax against him again.  "Whatever you think is best.  I don't know about these kinds of things."  Something in my stomach lurched just a little when I heard what I'd just said; I wasn't sure at what point exactly I had handed the decision making responsibilities concerning my body completely over to him for the morning, but as much as it was disconcerting, it was also somehow a relief.  I knew I could trust him to make decisions that were good for me.  I could trust him to take care of me.  I'd never trusted _anyone_ like that before.  It was new and scary and I loved it in all its unfamiliar strangeness.

He shifted me around on his lap and made me stand up for a moment, then put his hand on my back to guide me down across his legs.  "Get comfortable," he said gently, pulling me toward his body, away from his knees.  "Don't be nervous, I won't hurt you baby girl."

I obeyed and found a position that was workable, with my head on his left thigh and my hips on his right.  Once I was situated, he stroked my bottom to soothe me, letting his fingers slide down to lightly tease my pussy for a few seconds.  I squirmed, groaning, knowing he wasn't going to let me come no matter how aroused I got. "Nooo Tom, please?"

"Shhhh," he commanded, giving my folds a very light little slap.  I jerked, not expecting it, and bit down on my lip to keep from yelping in surprise.  "This will distract you from what I'm about to do, so don't fight me."

"Why, what are you about to - "

I wasn't able to finish my sentence because he suddenly spread my cheeks apart and slipped a finger into my asshole, lubed with the numbing cream.  I sucked in my breath and held onto his leg as he urged me to relax, moving his finger around inside me to coat my bruised insides with the cream.  I started to feel comfortably numb almost immediately, the burning ache easing off quickly till it was nothing more than a dull memory of the pain that had been there just moments before.

"There, see how much better that is?"

I nodded against his leg while he rubbed my back.  It felt so nice, so comforting, and the feeling of absolute trust that laying like this and allowing him to do this required of me - it was what I wanted, what I'd always wanted, but I'd never known I needed any of it till right that moment.  Now all I needed was for him to use this position to spank me and I'd have it all.

 

We shared coffee for a few minutes at the kitchen table and then returned to the bedroom to dress.  I needed to get to the office, but we seemed to keep finding ways to avoid rejoining the world outside his apartment.

"What would it take for you to bend me over your knee and spank me?" I asked, suddenly brave.  "A real spanking, not just a smack on the butt while we fuck."

He didn't look at me, just continued rummaging through his dresser looking for a clean shirt.

"I told you, I don't spank for fun."

"Then what was that last night?"

"That was what you said, a smack on the butt while we fucked."  He found the shirt he was looking for and sat on the edge of the bed to pull it on.

"It seemed pretty serious," I whined, fidgeting on my sore backside.  Every time I moved I was reminded of his big hand making contact.  "You said you don't hit, but you hit me at least eight times."

He shook his head, frowning.  "No, trust me, if I hit you you'd know it."  He was rubbing the palm of his hand with his thumb and staring at it intently.  "There's a difference."  He looked up at me again with narrowed eyes.  "Why do you want a spanking so badly?  Is this a kink I should know about?"

I shrugged, a little shy suddenly.  I honestly didn't know if it was a kink, but it was definitely a prospect that excited me.  But it was a selective excitement - I'd tried to think of someone else doing it, imagining Chris or Eric bending me over their knee, but all those images did was give me shivers of revulsion and embarrassment.  The idea of Tom doing it made me wet.

"I don't know...maybe."  I got up and walked over to him, stopping at his knee, and he raised his hand as he looked up at me.  I took it and he pulled me down to sit on his thigh again.

"If you really want it, I'll consider it," he said quietly, his voice lilting teasingly with the hinted promise of indulgence.  "Have you ever been spanked before?"

"No.  I've never wanted to before."

"Why now?"

I shook my head, not sure if I really had an answer.  I couldn't think of anything that would make sense, to him or even to myself, so I just looked at him and said, "I don't know."

He seemed to be thinking, rubbing his hand absently up and down my back.  Then he sighed and moved it to the back of my neck.

"Alright.  Across my knee, girly."

A shiver of surprise and excitement shot through me, followed by a quick jolt of uncertainty that made me just look at him in disbelief.  He meant business though, and squeezed the back of my neck with his fingers to let me know he expected me to obey quicker.  "Do you want to try this or not?"

I stood up and he put his knees closer together, his hand on my elbow pulling me down across them.  By the time I was situated across his lap - for the second time that morning, though for different reasons - my stomach was knotting with anticipation.

"This is just to see how you like it.  I'll give you three, and three only," he informed me as he slipped his hand up under the back of my nightshirt, hooking his fingers into my panties and pulling them down.  I squirmed on his thighs and he tightened his grip on the back of my neck.  _"Lie still."_

His hand pressed against my bare bottom for a moment and I waited, holding my breath, not sure what to expect.  He wasn't mad, at least I didn't think he was - but I had badgered him into this, so maybe he was?  At least a little irritated?  The memory of his flat-handed slaps the night before was still fresh in my mind and even though they had stung like fire, I still wanted more of them.  Would this be the same?

I didn't have to wait long to find out.  He drew back and smacked me, hard enough to make me jump but not enough to really hurt.  I groaned and held onto his leg.

"More?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?  We can stop now..."

I shook my head.   _"More."_

He hesitated a moment, but only a moment.  "Harder or softer?"

I bit my tongue.  "Harder."

The next one was  _definitely_  harder - he skipped everything between little smack and huge blow and went straight to the serious stuff.  I cried out in pain and tensed up, my whole body reacting to the sudden stinging ache that set my entire nervous system on fire.  It was obvious he was trying to convince me not to continue.

"Hard enough?"

"Oh my god... _fuck..."_   I groaned miserably and gripped his leg tight.  There was a tickling sensation between my legs and I realized with embarrassment that I was wet, so wet that it was trickling out of me.  I buried my face against his knee and my voice came out as a choking sob.  _"More."_

He let his hand rest on my bottom for a moment, his long fingers brushing lightly against my exposed folds.  I knew he could see what was happening to me.  He let his middle finger stroke me absently, like you would fiddle with a pencil while taking a pause from writing.  "Are you sure about that, girly?"

"Uh huh."  I sounded so pitiful, I could barely even get that simple response out loud enough to be heard.   _"Please."_

There was so much raw need in my voice that I felt him physically react; the muscles in his thighs tensed and his breathing quickened.  

"Well, since you asked so nicely..."

He gave me one more; it fell somewhere between the gentleness of the first and the brutality of the second, leaving me whimpering and gnawing on the side of his knee, aching with both raw discomfort and pulsating desire.  I knew he was done so I didn't ask for more, even though I wanted more than anything to keep feeling the sting of his hand on my already bruised bottom.  But this wasn't something he wanted to do, he'd only given in to make me happy - so I swallowed my urge to beg and just lay across his lap, sobbing quietly and holding tightly to his leg as he rubbed my back.

"Shhh, baby," he whispered, his fingers caressing me lovingly.  "All done."

He helped me stand in front of him and turned me around so that I was facing away; I felt his lips lightly kissing the new marks, his warm breath further heating the already pulsating handprints.  It had only been three swats but I felt each of them profoundly, even more so because I knew he hadn't wanted to do it.  But he had, for me. 

It was obvious he didn't equate spanking with sex, but I felt like I could probably convince him the that the two could play nicely together, eventually.  I didn't ask what his hesitation was about - it was just apparent that he had an aversion to this sort of punishment play and to him, it had nothing to do with foreplay.  I didn't think it would be wise to question him as to why.  Not yet, anyway.

I hoped it didn't have anything to do with the twelve year old boy in the closet, but something cold and dreadful in the pit of my gut said it probably did.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

I didn't want to leave him when the time came, but my firm was in the middle of a huge negotiation proceeding and I had a large number of important files in my possession - playing hooky wasn't an option. Tom was quieter than usual but still attentive, rubbing my backside as we shared sink time, touching me in some small way every time we were within reach of each other.  As I was pulling on my shoes and he was lacing his boots, I knelt between his knees and slipped my arms around his middle.  He hesitated for a moment, seemingly not sure what I was doing, then he dropped his boot behind me and slid his arms around me, hugging me tight, his face pressed into my hair.

"Hey," I complained, squirming a bit in his arms.  "This is my hug, not yours.  Back off."

He laughed quietly, for just a brief moment.  "Why are you hugging me?"

"Because I thought you could use one.  You're always doing the hugging, I thought you might like to have one back sometimes."

He seemed to hold his breath for a moment, then I felt something in him let go and his entire body posture changed; he relaxed against me, his head dropping down to my shoulder and his back bending as his arms tightened around my waist, pulling me closer so that we were melded against each other.  There was a long deep sigh against my hair, and for the first time since I'd known him, Tom wasn't the boss of the room. He was just a guy getting a hug.

I knew then that despite his self assured demeanor and absolute confidence, there was something else inside that he didn't show anyone. Something that maybe didn't get enough hugs when he was little because his stepdad was a dick and the foster families didn't know how to deal with his attitude.  Something that lost all gentle human contact when his sister was taken away and learned to cope by being the least needy person in the group.  Something that was always what everyone else needed, without exposing his own needs.  I knew then why he just took what he wanted, but also why he was considerate and kind when he took it.  It was just how he'd learned to live.

I was okay with him taking what he wanted from me because he took such good care of me when he did it, and afterwards.  But who was taking care of _him?_

I'd taken something from him that morning, something he didn't particularly want to give, but he did it anyway, for me.  When he did that to me, he always gave me something back - cuddles, strokes, kind words, gentle kisses.

I hadn't given him anything back, and my heart suddenly hurt from the realization.

He might have been the dominant one in our relationship, but he still needed something from me.

 _"What do you need?"_   I asked, hoping he would understand.

There was a pause, but not nearly so long as I had expected it to be.  His arms tightened around me just slightly.

 _"This,"_   was all he said.

 

He finished putting on his boots while I brushed my hair at the mirror over his dresser; he watched as I twisted my hair up into a bun and secured it with a clip from my bag, leaving my neck exposed and, most notably, the bite mark he'd given me.  The look on his face was one of approval and he joined me at the mirror, leaning over to kiss the back of my neck.  The bite was so tender that just the light touch of his lips made me wince.

"Put some ice on this at lunch today," he instructed me, his warm mouth still pressed against the bruise.  "And if anyone asks, tell them your lover likes a little bit of rough."

I leaned back into him and let him wrap his arms around my chest.  "I will.  If anyone has the nerve to ask, they deserve the shocking truth."  I put my hands over his; as we stilled and went quiet, I began feeling the steady beat of his heart against my back.  It was the most comforting thing I'd ever felt.  "Tom?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?  I mean...you pay so much attention to taking care of me, you never let me do anything for you."  I turned in his arms and looked up at him as he let his hands slide down my back to rest on my hips. "Is there anything you want me to do for you?"

He smiled as he looked down at me, turning my hips with his hands so that we were slow dancing, just the slightest bit.  

"Just this.  This is all I need."

I nodded and returned his smile.  I wasn't sure he was being entirely honest with me, but it was okay, for now.  He had opened up to me at the pub, told me about his past, at least some of it.  It was more than I'd expected from him, maybe it was more than he was really capable of sharing, but he'd done it.  I felt I owed him something in return.

"I've got to go."  I tugged him down so I could kiss him.  "I'll see you after work, Kady will probably want to come to the pub for a drink.  We have briefwork all day and it sucks."

His smile had turned melancholy, or perhaps it was just my imagination...but he swatted my backside as I walked out the door and it quickly turned into a wicked grin when I yelped and cursed at him.  

"See ya, baby girl."

 

At lunch that afternoon, as I stood leaning against the fridge in the breakroom with a ziplock full of ice on the back of my neck, my boss came in to get his thermos;  I started to move out of his way so he could get into the refrigerator, but he blocked me with his arms on both sides, grinning with the painfully obvious pretense of not knowing which side I was moving to.

"Ouch, Anja, what the hell happened to you?"  He was scowling as he stared at the bruise above my collar, reaching for my hand to move it so he could get a better look.  I didn't stop him - I was curious to see what he would do when he got close enough to catch my scent.  I still didn't know if he was an alpha and I kind of wanted to find out, if for no other reason than to watch his reaction to smelling Tom on my skin.

He peeled my hand away and I heard him suck his breath in, uncomfortably close to the back of my head.  "Holy shit.  Are those teeth marks?"

I turned and took the bag of ice back from him; he had taken it from my hand, but now he simply let me take it back without resistance.  I had been totally expecting a flirtatious tug 'o war with it.

"Actually, yes, they are."  I gave him a smile and he just stood there, sort of nervously running his hand over his chin, his eyes falling briefly to my lips.  I watched as his nostrils twitched just the faintest bit, barely even noticeable had I not known what I was looking for.  He took a step back, but his eyes stayed locked to my mouth.

"You should tell that man friend of yours to go easy," he said as he reached past me for the fridge door handle.  "Someone might think he's marking his territory."

He winked at me as he retrieved his thermos and strode out of the break room.

 

Kady and I joined Chris and two of our other friends at our usual table in the back of the pub, shrugging out of our coats and scooting into the available spots between the guys.  Tom had winked at me from behind the bar when we first walked in, but he and Ewan were busy with the evening crowd, so I hadn't gone to say hi to him yet.  Kady yelled "Hey handsome!" at him as we headed for the back, but he didn't even seem to hear her.  I wondered if he really did and was just ignoring it like he always did, and whether this was part of the 'not sharing' thing he'd mentioned.  If he wasn't willing to share me, surely he would put the same standard to himself?

"Smug bastard," Kady whined as we settled in.  "I wonder sometimes if he's into guys.  I mean, look at what he's blowing off!"  She gestured grandly at herself and Chris slipped an arm around her.

"I'll kiss ya Kadybug."

"The hell you will, dumb jock."  She pushed against Chris's overly muscled chest and he laughed at the complete ineffectiveness of the gesture. "I like them decidedly less brawny and more brainy than you."

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat, hoping the table's attention wouldn't turn to me until this conversation was over.  I didn't feel comfortable even talking about Tom yet - to my knowledge he hadn't told anyone about us, with the exception of leaving some things open to interpretation, like the night Ewan walked in on us.  I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing in that regard.

"You're squirmy," Chris teased me as he squeezed past me to go talk to someone.

I fidgeted again on my hard wooden chair.  It was just Kady, me, and Ben now, and Ben was turned around talking to someone at the next table. I shifted and gave Kady a complaining look.  "My butt hurts."

"Then stop putting things in it, silly girl,"  Tom said as he leaned across me to put a tray of beers on the table.  I hadn't even seen him coming till he was right there, which was typical.  The man moved like a cat. Kady choked on her water and it sprayed all over the booth, the look on her face suspended somewhere between shock and scandal as she stared at me, wide eyed.

Tom leaned over my shoulder again and put his face near mine and I turned, letting him give me a quick peck on the lips.  "Hey baby."

I smiled up at him - apparently we were coming out to whoever happened to be looking.  "Hey," I grinned back.

He tipped his head up in a gesture of greeting to Ben and then said "Hey, Kady" as he snapped the towel off his shoulder and mopped up the mess she'd made.  And then he was gone, back behind the bar again, just as quickly as he'd appeared.

"What. The. F-"

Chris returned and interrupted Kady's shocked demand for information with the arrival of two more of his friends, and everybody shifted to make room.  I took the opportunity to excuse myself and headed for the bar.  I was anxious to tell Tom about my boss's reaction, but I ended up chatting with another of our friends for a few minutes before he could get enough of a break to come over to me.

He lowered his head, looking past my shoulder toward the back.  "Eric is here," he said quietly, finally shifting his eyes to mine.  His expression was unreadable.

"Oh shit, is he?"

"He just came in, he's sitting by Kady."

I felt a little freaked out, but Tom seemed perfectly calm.  I knew he wouldn't let anything happen, so I swallowed hard and tried to be calm too, keeping my eyes on him.

"What do you think I should do?"

"I think you should go back there and join them.  Act like everything's fine.  I don't think anyone else except Chris even knows what happened."

That was true, I hadn't told anyone about that night.  Chris knew because Tom had sent him out to put Eric in a cab while he tended to me in the back room.  But aside from that, everyone thought I had smacked myself in the eye with a doorknob.

"Okay."

He put his hand over mine for a second and gave it a squeeze, then winked at me reassuringly.  "Nothing's going to happen, girly.  You're safe."  

 

I went and sat down next to Chris, across from Kady and Eric.  I saw Eric's eyes briefly move past me toward the bar, obviously looking for Tom, but then he looked at me and gave me a half smile that seemed almost apologetic.  "How are you Anja?"

Without thinking, I put my hand to my face and touched my cheekbone.  It was still sore, weeks later, though the bruise was finally gone.

"Not bad, you?"

He nodded, seeming distinctly uncomfortable.  Part of me wanted to keep him like that, squirming internally, eaten up with guilt and embarrassment over his stupid actions.  Another part felt like letting it go and just treating him like the rest of the crew, one of us, no conflict. Tom had given him a beating he wouldn't ever be likely to forget, but I was having just as much difficulty forgetting the punch in the face that a grown ass man had given me over misconstrued consent.  I wasn't sure what I should be doing, so I just sat there, watching uncomfortably as Kady leaned into his shoulder, flirting carelessly like she always did.

Tom came to the table to hand Chris and Ben their whiskey shots and squeezed my shoulder briefly as he glanced around at everyone's glasses, shouting over the noisy din at Ewan to bring Ben another beer.

Chris stopped the raucous conversation he was having with one of his buddies and narrowed his eyes, staring in the general vicinity of the front of Tom's pants.  "Did a dog get hold of your belt?  There's bitemarks all over it."  I felt my ears go hot when I turned and looked - he was wearing the belt that had been wrapped around my wrists all night.

Tom laughed but didn't say anything, just laid his hand on the bare back of my neck and squeezed gently before tucking his tray under his arm and walking off.  Kady kicked me under the table as he left.

 

I had an early morning and decided to leave soon after that; Kady was having too much fun doing shots with Ben and Chris, so I got up on the pretense of going to the ladies room and headed for the bar instead to say goodnight to Tom.  He was still swamped but took a second to lean across the bar and give me a kiss, eliciting a _whoo hoo_  and a suggestive grin from Ewan.

"Call me when you get home, okay?"

"Okay."  I smiled and he smiled back, our faces just inches apart, the noise of eighty other people around us suddenly fading into nothing till I believed, for just a moment, that I could hear his heart beat over it all.

He took his keys out of his pocket and held them up in front of me.  "Take my car, I don't want you walking alone.  It's across the street."  I reached up to take the keys but he didn't let them go right away, and I was reminded of my encounter with my boss that afternoon.  

"Oh yeah, I have something to tell you, I'll call you tomorrow about it."

"Call me _tonight,"_   he scolded, finally letting go.  "As soon as you get home, I mean it."

"I know, I will.  But I'll call you tomorrow about this.  You're going to be here all night it looks like."

Ewan started yelling for help with the taps, so Tom winked at me and tapped my nose with his fingertip.  "Nite, bitch pudding."

 

I'd been outside for about thirty seconds when the door flew open and Eric rushed out, stopping abruptly when he saw me standing on the sidewalk trying to figure out which key went to Tom's car.

"Anja," he said, looking at me guiltily.  "I was hoping I'd catch you."

I started shaking my head, letting him know I didn't want to have this conversation, whatever it was going to be.  I headed for the door to go back inside and he quickly moved to where I'd been standing, trading places with me, keeping his distance.  "Please wait, Anja, please?  I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"It's cool, Eric.  You got yours, I'm not worried about it."

He rubbed his ribs and nodded.  "Yeah, well, I still wanted to tell you I'm - "

His eyes suddenly shifted, looking past me at the door.  I knew Tom had just stepped outside and they were eyeing one another.  He was behind me, but I knew it was him without turning around.  His voice was low and steady and heavily laced with a menacing note of warning.  

"I think you'd best fuck off now, Eric."

Eric looked back at me, a slow grin crossing his face.  "Is that what you think, Tommy?  That I should fuck off?  I guess maybe you've forgotten that I'm the one that belongs here and you're just the vagrant kid who couldn't save his own sister.  Did you forget that, Tommy?  Hmm?"

I turned around and looked at Tom.  His expression was completely neutral, emotionless, unaffected; he didn't say anything, and Eric took the opportunity to start in on him again.  "Does that haunt you, Tommy? Because it probably should, seeing as it was your fault and all...poor Emma..."

I knew what Eric was doing, it was obvious.  He was trying to trigger Tom, to set him off.  A calm, rationally thinking Tom could beat you at any game, but an angry out of control Tom could make mistakes.  But how would Eric know what Tom's triggers were?  I didn't even know, though I had my suspicions.  How did he know about his sister?  They weren't friends any more than Eric and I were, yet here they stood glaring at each other with the kind of hatred normally reserved for old enemies.  It was scary, and I stood between them, waiting for someone to snap.

No one did.

"Go home Eric," Tom told him one more time as he took me by the arm and started across the street with me.  "I want you gone when I get back."

 

He walked me to his car and put me in it, buckling me in and ordering me to go straight home, no stops, and that he would put Kady in a cab to my house later so I wouldn't be alone.  "Why?" I asked, confused. "What was all that about?"

He shook his head and didn't answer me.  "Just do as you're told.  I'll deal with Eric."  He leaned in and kissed me.  "I'll call you in a little while."

 

I obeyed and went straight home, and Kady showed up in a cab, half drunk and not knowing why she was at my house, less than an hour later. Tom had called me already and told me he would come by after he closed the pub - I asked if he thought there was any need for that and he said no, but that he would come anyway.  I could tell there was something beneath his suddenly steely exterior that needed to be with me.

I put Kady to bed in the guest room and tried to get some sleep myself, not knowing what kind of night Tom was going to bring with him.  I hoped he would just check on me and go home, since I had such an early morning ahead of me and he knew it, but I'd seen his face while Eric was hurling accusations at him about his sister.  He'd remained completely passive, never betraying a single thought or emotion, but his eyes had gone cold with hate.  I'd never seen him like that, it was chilling and it made me nervous.  

I took a hot shower and it relaxed me enough that I was able to doze for a bit before my phone rang.

"I'm outside, let me in Anja."

I wrapped my robe around myself and unlocked the door to find him standing on my porch in the lamplight from the street, lit from behind, looking every bit like the mysterious vampire Kady had always insisted him to be.  He just stood there, so I reached out and pulled him in by his arms.  

"Did you walk, baby?  You're frozen."

He didn't answer, just grabbed me as I was locking the door behind him and pulled me close, hugging me so tightly to him that I couldn't catch my breath for a moment.  I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him back, kissing him, smoothing his hair back from his face as he began returning my kisses.  "Tom, what the hell?  What was all that about?  How does Eric - "

"Shhhhh," he silenced me, stopping my words with his lips pressed hard against mine.  "Don't talk.  Take me to your bed."

"Tom, I - "

He pulled his face away and gave me a look wracked with painful pleading.  "You asked what I need from you.  I need this."

I closed my mouth, letting the rest of my protest die.  I nodded.  "Okay." 

I took him by the hand and led him to my bedroom, closing the door quietly behind us so as not to wake Kady.

 

That night there was no roughness, no bondage, no biting, no playful foreplay, no reckless abandon.  There was only us and this dark silent mystery between us that I wasn't a part of, but that my participation was required to deal with.  Tom kissed me with a raw, needy urgency that told me he didn't want anything except my acceptance and the use of my body, and I gave him both, respecting his need for silence as he laid me back on the bed and moved over me, sinking into me the moment his probing fingers told him I was ready enough.  There was nothing brutal or animalistic in him, just an aching desire to feel better, pulling whatever comfort he could from me as I lay beneath him trying to help him cope with whatever it was that had taken the light from his eyes.  It was a desperate sort of lovemaking, like two people spending their last night together and finding themselves too heartbroken to do anything more than push blindly into each other, without words, with few kisses, absorbing each other's sadness.  And when it was done and he lay panting on top of me with my arms tight around him, he finally spoke.  His voice was a faint whisper, but it found my ears despite its best efforts to remain unheard.

"We're mated, Anja."

I nodded, letting my chin bump against his in the darkness so he would know I was acknowledging him with agreement.

"Yes."

"I take care of you...you take care of me."

"Yes."

This time he nodded, letting his face push into the side of my neck, and I felt that it was damp.  I didn't know if it was tears or the rain that had gathered in his hair, but I held him tight and let him fall asleep on me, waiting until he was snoring softly before I edged my way slowly out from under him, careful not to wake him.

 

He was still sleeping as I got ready for work the next morning, so I left him in my bed and went to get Kady up and out.  I didn't want the two of them crossing paths on the way to the bathroom - Kady would cause a scene and I didn't want to subject Tom to that, not knowing what kind of mood he would be in when he awoke.  But best laid plans and all that...I should have known nothing would go smoothly on the one day I truly needed them to.

I was taking coffee to the guest room to give a second go at getting her up when I heard a loud _OHMYGODWHATTHEFUCK?!!_ in her distinct voice, coming from the vicinity of my bedroom down the hall.  She'd found Tom.  

"Kady, for gods sake, would you just - "

"Vampire Tom is in your bed.  You know that, right?  Please tell me you know that."

"Of course I know that, I put him there.  Would you be quiet?  He needs to sleep."

"He's awake," Tom muttered from the bed.

We both turned and looked.  He had shifted over onto his back and was rubbing his face, the sheets just barely covering his hips.

"Oh my god he's naked."

I grabbed Kady by the shoulders and shoved her back into the hall, yelling at her through the slammed door to go get some coffee and get herself home.  We both had to be at the office in half an hour and I didn't have time for this.  I climbed up on the bed next to Tom and snuggled into his side for a moment, letting him slide an arm around my back to pull me closer.   _This_ I had time for.

"Morning, Vampire Tom."

"Mmm.  Morning, bitch pudding.  Or should that be _butch_ pudding, I've never seen you that forceful.  Impressive."

"Oh god.  I love her but she gets on my nerves sometimes."

We snuggled in silence for a few minutes, him stroking my arm, me playing with his hair.  It was raven black against my white sheets, I'd never seen hair so black.  So beautiful.

"You're my mate," I whispered against his bicep, pressing a kiss to his warm skin.  He murmured a little _mnnn hmm_ and it reverberated through his chest, tickling my cheek.  "I like the sound of it, although I'm not entirely sure what it means."

He grunted a little, his eyes still closed.

"It's a...committed relationship.  Like a marriage, without being married."

Well that wasn't what I'd expected to hear.  But it wasn't an unwelcome thought.

"Wolves mate for life, right?"

He squeezed my arm.  "Yes, they do."

I thought about that for a moment.  Mated for life, to one guy.  To Tom.  I still wasn't even sure why it had been him, but the more time I spent with him, the more certain I was that something had pulled us together.  Something that knew more than we did. 

"We take care of each other, then?  Look after each other?"

He nodded.  "Always."

"Then that means you let me take care of you, too.  Right?"

There was a moment of hesitation, and I almost asked again.  But he finally let out a long, sleepy sigh and opened his eyes.

"You have my undying loyalty, Anja.  All I want from you is yours."

"Ohh," I teased, shifting around so that my breasts were pressed against his ribs.  "Is _that_ all you want from me."

His face broke into a wide grin.  "Well, that and your sweetly soaked pussy from time to time."

His hand roamed down to my backside and gave it a lewd squeeze, but I wriggled away from him and scooted off the bed.  "I'm going to be late if I let you do that.  Today is important, I can't let you distract me...no matter how tempting you look all splayed out there in my bed like some guy off the cover of a Harlequin romance novel."

He squinted his eyes at me.  "Come back over here."

"Nope, not gonna happen," I shook my head, straightening my skirt and re-tucking my blouse.  "I have to go, literally ten minutes ago."

He propped up on his elbow and watched me rush around the room looking for my shoes.  "You're getting skinny, Anja.  Are you not eating?"

I stopped at the dresser to give my hair a quick run-through with a brush and caught his gaze in the mirror.  He was openly appraising me, and it sent a shiver through me.  I really wished I could stick around for even just twenty more minutes.

"Things have been so busy at the office, I haven't had a lot of time for lunch."

His look turned disapproving.  "Eat, Anja.  I mean it.  I don't want you getting sick."

"I will, Tom, I promise."  I turned and looked at him distrustfully.  "Is it safe to come over there?  I want to give you a goodbye kiss but I don't want to get mauled."

He opened his arms, an expression of total scoundrel all over his face.  "Try your luck."

 

It was a brief mauling, but it was worth the few extra minutes that it took to straighten my clothes again.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

One of the assistants from down the hall stuck her head into my office and knocked on the inside of the doorframe.  

"Some really good looking guy is here to see you.  He brought food."

I felt a smile take over my face despite how tired I was.  "Well by all means, get him in here."  She ducked back out for a moment and I heard flirtatious giggling from the hallway - Tom seemed to get that response a lot.  The ladies loved him.  But far from giving me the twinge of jealousy that I probably should have felt, it actually made me feel good, knowing I had something that everyone else was so crazy about. He'd made me feel completely confident that he was mine, totally loyal to me, and that no amount of giggling attractive female attention was going to turn his head away from me.  It was very empowering.

The assistant returned and stood in the doorway, purposefully in the way so that Tom would have to brush against her to come in.  I couldn't fault her for it - it was that alpha male thing doing its dirty magic on her - but I shot her a warning look and she stepped back a bit so he could pass.

"Hey baby," he said happily as he came in and put a carryout box of food on my desk, leaning across it to kiss me.  He held up a gigantic coffee and popped the lid off, holding it seductively under my nose and letting me sniff it for a moment.  I recognized it instantly - he'd made me my favorite.

"Mmmm...let me guess, french vanilla cappuccino with extra cream and a buttload of vanilla, just the way I like it?"

"Of course."

"Gimme."

I took it from his hand and tasted it.  Perfect, as always. Sighing happily, I sat back in my chair as he settled across from me on the client sofa; I stared at him for a moment and he stared back, neither of us really needing to say anything.  

I finally broke the silence.

"Why am I so crazy about you?"

He grinned and shrugged, his eyebrows going up in that quizzically mocking way they always did when he knew the answer but was being horsey about it.

"Because I let you braid my hair?"

"Yeah, there's that."  I opened the carryout box and sniffed the gorgeous lunch he'd made me, suddenly realizing just how hungry I was.  I had been just about to skip lunch again when he arrived.  "You take the initiative.  You know what needs done and you just do it."  I pointed at the tall cup of coffee on my desk.  "This.  For two years you've been putting that in front of me the moment I walk into the pub, and I've never asked for it.  But you know I would if you gave me two seconds to get the words out.  So you just go ahead and do it."

He just smiled, stretched out on the sofa, giving me that confident gaze that used to make me nervous but now only made me warm inside. "And you figured out that I've been too busy to leave my office to get lunch, so you brought lunch to me."  I unwrapped a fork and waved it at him.  "Initiative.  You saw it needed done and you did it."  I took a bite and moaned a little at how good it tasted.  "I like that in a man."

He was still just looking at me with that amused little grin.  I stopped chewing and stared back at him.  "What?"

"I've never seen you in office mode.  You're a fucking boss, girly."

I laughed.  "I'm _assistant_ to the boss.  Big difference."

"Yeah," he agreed, leaning forward to pick up a photo frame from my desk.  "But you tell a lot of people what to do around here, am I right?  That girl that let me in, she seemed like she's had some experience with licking your pumps."

"You sound jealous."

"Put one over here and I'll happily lick it."

I was glad he was on the other side of my desk, because if he'd been within reach right that moment my hand would have been down the front of his pants - and there was no doubt his would have been up my skirt.  It was obvious the subject needed changing, quickly, before this escalated. 

"Thank you for this - I was really dreading going into the break room."

He knew I was putting on the brakes and he allowed it, leaning back into the sofa again.

"Oh yeah, you didn't get to tell me what your boss did."

"He didn't actually _do_ much - but he was _very_ interested in this."  I tapped the back of my neck, wincing a bit at my own touch.  It was still extremely sore.

"What happened?"

"He wanted to see it up close, so I let him...just to see how he'd react, I figured he'd be able to smell you on me if he got close enough."

Tom grinned, obviously amused.  "You're a quick learner.  Go on."

"I think he got a whiff of you and he backed up pretty quick.  But it was kinda strange because he still got in one last flirt, even though he obviously was respecting your mark." 

"Shit.  He's an alpha, Anja.  Watch yourself."

"Is that bad?"

"Yes, it is.  He knows you're mated but obviously your mate's not around, so he thinks he can come sniffing while you're on his territory.  And all this - "  He gestured in a wide circle, indicating the entire building - "is his territory."  He stood up and headed for the door, opening it and looking out into the hall.  "Where is he?"

"What are you going to do?  Oh god, please don't have a showdown with him here."

He laughed, looking down the corridor outside my office.  "No, no showdown.  But if he sees me he'll recognize me.  He just needs to see me once."

"Recognize you?"

"He'll know I'm your alpha, he'll subconsciously remember my scent.  That might be all it takes to make him back off."

More perfect timing could never have been asked for, not since the dawn of time, not even if the fates themselves requested it - for at that very moment my boss rounded the corner with an open file in his hand, absently asking if I knew where the affidavits were.  He looked up and found himself standing directly in front of Tom.

The two of them stared at each other for a long, tense moment, sizing one another up, till finally Mr Laing extended his hand with a warm smile. Tom took it and I watched in amusement as the veins in both their forearms pumped up; I knew they were crushing the hell out of each other's hands, fighting politely for dominance in a civilized version of a pissing match.

All I could do was watch.  Two alphas squaring off in a tightly controlled setting was just so...funny.  And mildly arousing.  Mr Laing was a highly attractive man and between the two of them there was so much testosterone flowing that I could almost feel myself ovulating.

"You must be a friend of Miss Black's," Mr Laing said with his polished tone of corporate mannered gentility.  Tom smiled and I could see the muscles in the backs of their hands straining; neither of them was willing to end the handshake and I was trying not to laugh, imagining this fake show of friendliness ending in bloodshed.

"Mr Laing, this is Tom.  Tom, Mr Laing.  My boss."

Tom nodded politely, his eyes narrowing.  "Nice to meet you.  I've heard a lot about you."

Mr Laing stared him down.  "All true, I'm sure."

I slammed my desk drawer shut, hoping it would have the same effect as firing off a gun next to a dogfight; it did, thankfully, and they finally broke their deathgrip on each other as I stood up and handed Mr Laing the affidavits he was looking for.

"Ah, thank you Anja.  Capable and efficient, as always."  He winked at me and tapped Tom on the chest with the file.  "It was nice meeting you, Tom.  Take care of that lady, she's phenomenal."

After he was gone and the door had shut behind him, I burst out laughing.  "Holy shit, I guess that answers that!  I would have never guessed...oh my god I thought you two were going to rip each other's throats out!"

Tom didn't say anything for a moment; he was staring at the door with his back to me.  When he turned to look at me, I could see that he was shaking.  

"Tom?"  I came around the desk and reached for his arm, but stopped just shy of touching him.  He didn't look right.  "What's wrong?"

He shook his head like he was clearing it.

"Watch out for him, Anja.  Never - _never_ \- be alone with him.   _Ever."_

 

After a little while he calmed again and looked at his watch.  "Ewan's probably in the fetal position in a corner somewhere, I should get back." 

"Don't go yet.  Are you okay?"

He smiled at me, looking like himself again.  "I'm fine.  I meant it though, stay as far from that guy as you can."

I nodded obediently.  "I will."  I was suddenly reminded of his reaction to being close to Eric and decided now was as good a time as any to broach that subject again, but I needed to do it quickly because he was looking like he needed to leave.  "Do you think you could tell me?"

He looked a little confused.  "Tell you what?"

"What last night was about?"

His confused expression shifted quickly into no expression at all.  "Last night?  That was about Eric daring to come near you again.  Speaking to you in a group setting I can allow, but following you outside again...he's asking for more than a kick in the ribs."

I shook my head.  "No, that's not what I mean."

He was looking straight at me, his eyes intent, and I knew that he knew what I was talking about.  But he wasn't going to go easy.

"What do you mean, then."

I sighed and decided the head on approach was best.  "You and Eric obviously know each other.  Since you were kids, at least.  He said you were a vagrant and that he belongs here, not you, so you have to have known him since you were fifteen because that's how old you were when you ran away and came here, right?"

He nodded slowly.

"And he knew your sister.  He implied pretty heavily that knows what happened to her.  So he knows about you and he knows about her, and as far as I'm aware, Chris is the only other person who knows _anything_ about you, and we've already established that his mom took you in when you were fifteen.  So your history with Eric is as long as your history with Chris.  But yet nobody knows that the two of you even know each other, other than both of you just being part of the group."

His eyes were locked to mine, unblinking, no emotion, no expression.  And then he finally smiled a little, sort of wistfully, and looked down at the floor.

"Not bad, girly.  Are you sure corporate law is your calling?  You should be a detective."

"I have to do a lot of fact checking around here, my brain latches onto details.  Things fall into place chronologically in my head."

He nodded and laughed a little, moving back to the sofa to sit down again.  He let his head drop back and exhaled deeply, staring at the ceiling for several long moments.  When he spoke again, his voice was emotionless, like he was relating something that happened to someone else, not to him.

"The family that Emma got sent to...it was Eric's family.  He was a teenager at the time."  He pulled his head up from the back of the sofa and leveled his stare straight at me.  "It was his dad that was messing with her."

I felt my heart start pounding and immediately second-guessed my assumption that this had been a good idea.  But he kept going.

"He knew, but there was nothing he could do.  He was a kid.  A small kid - he's big now, but at the time he was really puny.  Older than me but smaller.  His dad was huge, I think he might have beat on Eric a bit...poor kid wasn't crazy about him but he was just as stuck as everybody else."

He paused and I tried to figure out what to say to put him more at ease, but he seemed fine.  It was me that was nervous.  "But I've never seen the two of you interact in any way, no indication you ever even knew each other until last night."

"We keep our distance from each other.  It's best for everybody."  He let his eyes drift to the photo on my desk, then after a few long moments drew them back up and looked at me.  "There's more to this story, Anja.  But it's not for telling right now."

I nodded, common sense telling me to let him end the conversation before something happened, but before I realized it my curiosity had callously overruled the common sense.

"What did he mean about your sister.  What he said about her and...you."

"You mean that I failed to save her?"  He rubbed his eyelids and then ran his hands through his hair, sighing.  "Yeah...he was right about that." He covered his face with his hands for a moment and rubbed his cheeks briskly, like he was waking himself up.  "After she was sent off again, out of Eric's home, I don't know what her situation was like...but it must have been bad, or maybe she was just depressed, I don't know.  She started self harming."  He looked up at me.  "I didn't know where she'd been sent to so I couldn't get to her before she went too far.  One day she just cut too deep."  He looked down at his hands and for a moment his face finally showed some emotion, although it wasn't the type of emotion I had expected; he didn't look sad, he looked angry, although his eyes betrayed a million other feelings that the rest of his face just wasn't on board with.  His voice had a bitter tinge of self loathing to it when he spoke again.  "But it was my fault she got moved again, so yeah, what happened to her was all me."

I wasn't sure if I should say anything, but he stopped talking and I felt like he couldn't leave it there, not without finishing it, even though I was afraid to hear any more of it.  Not for me, but for himself.  He looked like he needed to end the story.

"How was it your fault she got moved?" I asked, as quietly and non-accusatory as I could manage.

"I killed Eric's dad."

 

I stared at him in silent shock, I'm sure with my mouth open, absolutely no clue if he was joking or not.

"Well... _supposedly_ I killed him."  He shrugged, as if this wasn't the most disturbing piece of information anyone had ever dropped in my lap.  "That's the part that's not for telling now.  Another day, bitch pudding."  His smile returned suddenly, but it had a distinct hollowness to it.

I came around my desk and stood next to his knee, holding my hand out for him to take if he wanted to, trying to comfort him in some way but having no idea how to go about it in light of what he'd just told me. He didn't act like he needed comforting, which struck me as odd, but something about his eyes was haunted and a little bit chilling.  But I was his mate, it was my job to make sure he was okay.  So I stood there with my hand hanging down, just waiting for him to decide if he was going to take it.

"What do you need, Tom?"  I'd asked him this a few times over the course of the last two days, and every time he seemed to open up to it more.  He was learning to share the burden of taking care of us.  He looked up at me, then reached out and took my hand, pressing it to his face as he closed his eyes.

"This.  Just this."

 

After he left I sat on the sofa to eat my lunch, not wanting the warm spot where he'd been sitting to fade away.  What he'd told me had left a huge, vaguely frightening, massively heartbreaking bruise somewhere inside me that the hot coffee and warm primavera couldn't soothe.  But they were a good start, and I knew he would share the rest of the details with me later, when he was ready.  But Eric...holy shit, Eric's dad and Emma...how could Tom and Eric even stand to be around each other?  Why would two alphas with a history like _that_ stay on the same territory with each other for so long?  My feelings about the whole thing were disturbing, but what bothered me the worst was that my attitude toward Eric was suddenly different.  In my head he was no longer the remorseless bad guy who was evil just for the hell of it.  There was no excuse for what he'd done to me, but I felt bad for him, for the puny kid whose asshole dad probably beat on him and abused a little girl in their home. Tom had said he probably knew it was happening.  Had it happened in front of him?  Was he humiliated every time he saw Tom, knowing that he'd been there when Tom's sister was being hurt and hadn't been able to do anything about it?  Had it happened to him, too?

And what was this 'supposedly' thing all about...?  

I felt more agitated after analyzing it all than I did before I'd started.  But there were no answers, because Tom was gone, back to his own territory while I sat here in Mr Laing's, hoping he didn't return to discuss the afternoon's proceedings with me.  He would be all business, I knew, but now there would be an overbearing scent of wolf in the air.

 

That night after work I went straight to the pub to see Tom.  I'd been feeling anxious ever since he'd left my office; something about his reaction to Laing's challenge over his dominance had left me incredibly turned on, and the fact that he'd trusted me with information about his past immediately afterwards made for a dizzying mix of feels.  I wasn't sure what to do with any of it - I felt unsettled and anxious, but one thing I knew for certain was that I needed to see him again, quickly.  I had the overwhelming need to just be near him, to make sure he was okay - I was certain he was, Tom always seemed to be okay - but I was beginning to be able to sense when things were a little off, and I wondered if it was because I was becoming more like him.  His confidence seemed to be rubbing off on me somehow.

I was pulling off my coat at the door when I glanced up in response to a loud burst of laughter from a nearby table.  It was a group of about a dozen, evenly interspersed with men and women who were obviously all paired with one another.  One woman was being particularly loud, telling a story that the others were all laughing at, gesturing wildly as she recounted her tale.

I heard my name and looked up to see Ewan carrying a big tray of beer mugs, grinning at me as he navigated his way through the crowded room. The gesturing woman threw her arm back right as he was passing behind her; her elbow collided with his tray and it went flying in a huge maelstrom of beer and glass.

The man that was sitting next to her started screaming at Ewan, cursing and calling him names.  There was no doubt it was going to turn ugly as he started to get up from his seat.

I looked quickly over at the bar and saw Tom.  His eyes were fixed on them, and as soon as the man's voice raised in anger he was out from behind the bar and across the pub, standing next to Ewan before the guy even had the chance to stand up.

"Is there a problem?"

"This dick here just dropped like twelve beers all over us!"

Ewan's cheeks were red and he looked furious, but he kept his voice low as he nodded and said "I dropped my tray.  Not a problem, Tommy, I'll take care of it."

Tom stepped closer to the table, standing right up against the woman who had started this.  The angry man suddenly went silent, frozen in mid-rise, and then sat slowly back down.  It was obvious what Tom was doing - his hips were level with the woman's head and he bumped against her shoulder, very briefly, but it was enough to get the attention of both her and her man and shift the entire situation into his control.  

"If you're going to abuse my staff I'm going to have to ask you to take your business and your bitch elsewhere.  If you want to behave and play nice, feel free to stay and enjoy your evening.  If not, I can escort you outside right now and point you toward Maggie's down the road, although she won't be quite as accommodating as me should you choose to misbehave there."  He looked down at the woman.  She was staring at her lap, obviously rattled by the closeness of him.  She hadn't even noticed that he'd called her a bitch, and if she did, she didn't seem to have a problem with it.

He  _owned_  that table and everyone sitting at it.  

I had to admire his skills in dealing with people.  Tall, imposing man with his crotch right next to your woman, establishing himself immediately as the dominant male presence, your chick is eyeing him suddenly and boom, he's speaking with pure authority and you're listening.  Listening and obeying.

When he spoke again, it was as if nothing had happened.  "Now, what can I get for you?"

 

I helped Ewan pick up some of the broken glass until Tom took me by the arm, pulling me toward the bar and away from the mess.  "Don't do that Anja, I don't want you to cut yourself."  

I followed him, whining a little about him being bossy, but then I remembered he'd been in that mode literally all day.  I wondered if it was tiring or if it was something he could switch on and off.  "That was kind of impressive," I remarked as I climbed up onto a barstool and picked up the water he put in front of me.  He gave me a grin and glanced over at the table he'd just given the verbal smackdown to. 

"You get to them before they stand up, then you're instantly taller than them and you have the dominant position before they even get started."

"Easy for you to say, you're taller than everyone even if they're standing up."  I looked back over my shoulder.  I thought they would have gotten up and left, but they were still firmly planted at their table, although they were decidedly quieter now.  "I can't believe you called that guy's woman a bitch and he didn't say a word about it.  You, sir, have balls."

He slid a glass of beer down the bar and leaned forward till his nose was almost touching mine.

"Would you like to verify that?"

 

By the time we got to the couch in the back room, he was tearing at my clothes and I was tugging at his hair and we fell onto a pile of bar rags, laughing, not caring that we'd left the door unlocked and had started grabbing at each other's asses before it had even swung shut behind us.  It only took him seconds to get his hands up under my skirt and pull my panties down enough to get inside me, and as I spread my legs to give him room to move, I realized that I'd been ready for him all day.  Wet and willing, just waiting for him to take me when the mood suited him.  I hadn't wanted to instigate it because of everything that had been going on, afraid of overwhelming him or me or both of us, but I was finding the whole series of events intensely arousing and now I was wondering if he did, too.  He certainly didn't seem traumatized by any of it, unless horniness was his defense mechanism.

He pushed into me, groaning as he slipped easily inside, his mouth coming down to kiss me with so much fervor that our teeth scraped against each other's.  His hands slid under my blouse and palmed my breasts for a moment until his fingers grew impatient and pinched my nipples through my bra; that wasn't enough for him so he pulled his chest away from me just far enough to allow him to grab my hands and move them up between us.  "Open it," he ordered me, pushing my fingers to the buttons of my blouse.  "If I do it I'll rip it off you."

I obeyed, unbuttoning it quickly, letting him tug it back off my shoulders so that my arms were trapped in the sleeves.  Effectively restrained, I lay still and watched him as he unfastened my bra and pushed it hurriedly up off my breasts, lowering his mouth to suck at my nipples till I groaned and finally closed my eyes against the delicious waves of pleasure that were starting to ripple through me.  He was already inside me so the sudden rush of wetness he gave me was redundant, but he put it to good use anyway, pushing his fingers into it to slather it up over my clit and make a nice slippery rubbing spot for him to stroke me into oblivion.

It didn't take long to do just that.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

We'd been together for a month and my cycle was coming around again.  This time I felt it more acutely because I understood it.  I was beginning to realize that things I'd attributed to PMS for my entire life were actually something else entirely, some of it designed to draw me to a mate, some to prepare my body for the rituals involved in pairing up, the rest just side effects of the first two.  I was even starting to look at cramps and irritability differently - physical and psychological signs of my body telling me _it's time, get busy girl._  The whole thing was no longer a troublesome bother but proof that Tom was right...we're all animals, some of us are just a little more aware of it than others.

Tom's head whipped around the moment I walked into the pub and I knew he could smell me from all the way across the room.  The way he crinkled his nose up and the instant fevered look that came to his eyes were a dead giveaway, and I swear between my legs throbbed when I saw him.  My alpha.  My mate.  He found me immediately through the crowd and pointed to the back room.

He joined me there just a few seconds after I closed the door behind me.

"You're in heat."

"Yes."

"You came to the right place.  Let me take care of that for you."

He crushed me to him with his arms around my back, lifting me just enough to pull my feet off the floor so he could lay me down on the couch.

"Where else would I go?"

_"Nowhere."_

I whimpered pitifully, clutching at myself, trying to push my fingers hard enough against my crotch to quiet the heated need pulsing there.  "It hurts."

"I know, baby girl...I'll help you with that.  Be patient."

He stood over me, unbuckling his belt, the fever in his eyes rising as the black of his pupils expanded to drown out the turquoise of his irises.  I wondered if the color was gone from my eyes as well.  He got his jeans open and knelt down between my knees, pushing my skirt up and moving my hands away from my aching pussy so he could press his mouth to me; my panties were in the way but I could still feel the unbearable heat from his mouth and it made me groan like a dying animal.

"Oh fuck...please Tom...I'm suffering here..."

"I'll get you taken care of, girly.  When have I ever let you down, hmm?"

He grabbed my knees and pushed them up and apart; I was propped up against the arm of the sofa so my thighs were pressing into my ribs, opening me completely to his hungry gaze.  He moved up and swiftly pushed his cock into me and I gave a strangled gasp, tugging at his shoulders to get him further inside me quicker.

"Stop, Anja, you're slowing me down," he scolded, gripping my wrists and forcing my arms up behind my head.  "Be still, you need this quickly.  Grab your hair and don't let go."

I did as I was told, fisting two handfuls of my hair to remind me to keep my arms up and out of the way.  Tom bit the inside of my elbow as he watched me obey him, obviously aroused by how quickly I followed his orders.  Thrusting hard, he let go of my wrists and turned all his attention to fucking me as hard and fast as he knew I needed.  It was quick and messy and almost brutal, but all I could think as he pounded into me was _more, god please more, faster, harder, make it hurt..._

It didn't take much to bring me to climax, as my highly aroused state had me most of the way there already before he even made it into the room. But I needed something more from him than just the friction of his skin on mine - I needed his seed, his hormone-laden come, to mix with mine and sate my hunger.  And I needed more than he could give me in one go, so when we were finished he cleaned me up and told me to go home and wait for him.  It was going to take more than just once to satisfy me, and we both knew it.

 

I obeyed him, going home and undressing to wait for him.  I thought about showering but decided against it; the smell of his come between my legs, his sweat on my chest and stomach, was intoxicating and I didn't want to wash any of it off.  I crawled into bed and twisted the sheets between my legs, groaning miserably as I rubbed against them, wishing he was there.

 

It was at least two hours later before he was able to get away from the pub.  I heard him let himself in; I had given him a key the morning after his confrontation with Eric, and as I lay in bed listening to him taking off his shoes and hanging his coat in the hallway, my discomfort grew more and more painful till I was almost crying.  He came into the bedroom and paused in the doorway for a moment, looking at me.

"It's okay baby girl, I'm here."

He sat down on the edge of the bed and undressed, too slowly to suit me, but I didn't dare try to rush him.  He had already let me know in the back room of the pub that he wouldn't tolerate my impatience - he had made me grab my own hair to keep me from interfering with him, this time he might use his belt.  I didn't think I could handle being restrained, my need to touch him was too great and I absolutely didn't want any time to be wasted with tying me up.  So I behaved, keeping my hands to myself, laying curled up in the bed behind him, whimpering in discomfort.  

When he had his shirt off, he turned to check on me.  "Doing okay, girly?"

I tried to form an _mnn hmm,_ but it came out as a groan instead.  He reached back to pet my head gently.  "You're so uncomfortable, aren't you baby?  I'll take care of that."  He stood and removed his jeans, finally lifting the sheets to climb into bed beside me, taking me into his arms quickly and kissing me.  "You know what this is, don't you?"

I nodded, trying desperately to keep myself from biting him.

"Now that you understand what's going on in your body and what you need to ease it, it's become this."  He slid his hand down to my crotch and pressed his palm against me.  "The discomfort of need and the pain of deep arousal, a fire burning in your belly that can only be quenched by the seed of your mate."

I nodded again, frantically expressing my agreement, hoping he would stop talking and just take me.  But he tightened his arms around me instead, cuddling me close, kissing my face over and over until I lost my patience and reached down to show him what I wanted.  He stopped my hand and pulled it back up.  "No, Anja.  You have to learn how to control this.  I won't always be readily available when your heat starts, what will you do then?"

I looked up at him, confused.  Why would he not always be there?  He read my expression and understood.

"What will happen when you go off on a business trip, or if I'm away and you can't reach me?  If you don't know how to control this, what will you do?"  He gave me a stern look, a look of absolute no-nonsense. "Will you fuck another alpha to satisfy your need?"

I actually gasped in shock at his words.  They almost felt like a slap in the face.

"What?  No - I would never - "  The idea of sleeping with anyone else was so completely repellent that I felt physically ill at even the mention of it. "I would never do that, Tom.  I don't want anyone else."  I stroked my hands across his shoulders, brushing his hair back off his neck.  "No one but you.  You're my mate."

He smiled, but I could see there was still a hint of worry in his eyes.  I was new to all this and he was afraid of other men taking advantage of me, I could almost read it in his thoughts as he stared into my eyes. "You're a good girl Anja...and I'll take care of you and protect you, but you have to learn how to protect yourself when I'm not with you.  Especially since you work in close proximity with an aggressive alpha that obviously has no interest in mating."

I didn't know what that meant as far as I was concerned, but I didn't want to sound stupid so I just looked at him quizzically and hoped he would take pity on my ignorance.  He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, obviously starting to be affected by our closeness and my scent, but he kept himself tightly under control.  

"He's a predator, baby.  He'll screw anything that lets him mount it.  He might keep a professional demeanor while you're at work, but if you stay after hours one night while your hormones are off the charts like this, he'll zero in on you before you even realize he's there."  His eyes had a look of anger in them, a distinctly dangerous edge.  "And if you haven't got yourself under control, you'll end up letting him."

I didn't think he was right, he couldn't be - there was no way I would let Laing do anything to me.  But I recognized the tone of his voice and knew I shouldn't argue with him.  

"So what do I do?"

He trailed his fingertips lightly across my cheek, stroking gently where my bruise had been.  It was gone now, but it still hurt the tiniest bit.  "I'll take care of you right now, get you through this first stage.  You're not used to it so I don't expect you to be able to control it yet.  But tomorrow will be different."  He let his hand move down my face, gliding over my throat and collarbone, down to my breast where he began stroking his thumb across my nipple.  "Tomorrow's Saturday, you're off work right?"  I nodded, biting my lip; his thumb was killing me slowly.  "You spend tomorrow in close proximity to me.  I'll be at the pub part of the day, you'll stay there with me."  I gave him a happy smile, excited at the thought of being with him, but he gave my nipple a pinch and shook his head disapprovingly.  "No sex tomorrow, Anja.  You have to learn how to manage it. Tomorrow will be the worst because your cycle will be at its peak."

"Noooo no no no," I moaned, hoping he was just teasing me, but sick in my stomach with the horrible suspicion that he wasn't.  "I have to be with you all day but I can't have you?  Why?"

"Haven't you been listening to me?" he snapped, giving me an irritated smack on the backside, hard.  I yelped, my mind suddenly clear.  

"Yes!  I'm listening...I just...I _need_ you."  I gave him a petulant look and he sighed.

"I've created a monster, haven't I?"

 

He took care of me, just as he promised he would, and all night I kept waking him up for more.  It was burning me up inside, this constant aching _need_ for him, till it eclipsed everything else in my head - work, Laing, Eric, Tom's unfinished story, life in general - none of it mattered, all I cared about was getting him inside me over and over again, and by morning I was so sore from our endless fucking that I cried when I sat up to get out of bed.  Tom was already up and in the shower but he heard me and shut off the water, yelling from the bathroom to ask if I was alright.  I felt like my insides were falling out, but I sucked it up and hollered back that I was fine.  I could hear him laughing as the water came back on.

"Asshole," I muttered under my breath.

"I heard that."

"How?  I barely even heard it, and I said it."

"I can hear your heart beating when you're across the pub, baby.  We're bonded, remember?"

"Then why can't I hear yours?"

The water turned off and a moment later he appeared at the door, naked and wet, toweling his hair.  "You can.  Just listen."

I stared at him, listening, but his long, lean, exceptionally _bare_ body was distracting me, despite the aching pain radiating from my overused vagina.  "All I can hear is my crotch screaming."

He rolled his eyes, moving to the dresser to get his clothes.  "Yeah and don't forget, no sex today."  He pulled on a pair of jeans and then tugged a teeshirt on over his still wet chest, tossing his head like a dog so that his hair sprayed water all over me.  

"I haven't forgotten," I whined, ducking under the sheets to avoid getting wet.  "But you forgot your underwear."

He tugged the sheet down and nipped at my nose with his teeth.  "Never wear them.  And neither will you, today.  I want you bare under your clothes, to make it even more uncomfortable to go without."

"What?  Why?"

"It's a training lesson, girly.  What good will it do you to learn to control your urges if the urges aren't unbearable?"

 

And unbearable they were.  I'd never felt anything like it in my life.  An hour into being with him at the pub, doing inventory and taking deliveries before the noon opening, I was following him around in tears, doing whatever he told me to do, getting mad at him for watching me to make sure I didn't touch myself and doing my best to seduce him into taking me into the back room.  But he refused, told me to stop acting like a whiny little bitch, and went on about his business as if there wasn't a female in heat right next to him all morning.  

"How are you even resisting me?" I asked him finally, aggravated and confused as to why his keen sense of smell wasn't driving him mad.  The way I felt, I had to be cranking out the pheremones by the bucketload.  He winked at me and patted his shirt pocket.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling him up to get whatever he had tucked away in there.  I pulled it out and read the label.  "Seriously?  You're shooting cayenne and eucalyptus up your nose to keep from smelling me?"

He nodded and kept stacking boxes.  

"Well that explains why you've had a runny nose all day and your eyes look like you have a cold.  Doesn't it burn?"

"Like fire," he mumbled.

I put the bottle back in his pocket and sat down, defeated.  But just the simple act of sitting put enough pressure on my underside to feel good, and I twisted a little, squirming in hopes of relieving that pressure even just a tiny bit before Tom caught me - but he knew me too well and I heard his deep, scolding voice before he even turned around.

"Why do you always know what I'm doing without looking?" I whined.  "And why won't you look at me?  And why won't you just give a girl a fucking break here and _put that goddamn fucking sexy cock between my goddamn fucking legs already?!"_

He continued ignoring me but I knew he was keeping track of how many times I whined and cursed.  None of it would go unpunished, a prospect that gave me a lewd rush of anticipation through my irritated petulance.  "How can you stand me, god I _am_ being a whiny little bitch. Hey - "  I threw a wadded up napkin at him  "- why don't you spank me for it?"  

I sat there with a big grin, waiting for him to turn around, but he just kept ignoring me.  Frustrated beyond my ability to control my emotions, I did the only other thing I could think of - I started to cry.  It was all I had left and I felt better once I'd started, so I just let it go.

Tom finally turned and looked at me, but instead of annoyance in his face, I saw compassion.  He actually felt sorry for me.  I could see the protective alpha male thing kicking in, activating his need to take care of me.   _Finally._

"Come with me, girl."

He led me to the back room and I headed for the couch, but he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back.  "No, we're not going to have sex Anja. I'm going to teach you something.  You have to learn how to redirect your desires."

I groaned, aching deep between my legs.  Since I'd stood up I could feel my wetness trickling down the inside of my thigh and it was driving me insane.

"Bite me, Anja."

I thought I'd misheard him, with my attention being so focused between my legs and the uncomfortably engorged sensation of unrelieved tension dragging my awareness southward.  "What?"

"Bite me.  Put your mouth on me and bite me."

"Why?"

"It will dispel your need and refocus you.  You need skin contact and aggression and a quick outlet for both.  Do it."  He tugged his shirt off over his head and tucked it into his back pocket, baring his upper body to me, all long and lean and sharply defined.  I could suddenly smell his skin, radiating heat and pheremones and that faintly sweet, overbearingly manly scent of sweat and undeniable maleness.  I had to resist the painfully strong urge to run my hands over him, but I knew he wouldn't allow it and trying would only frustrate me and possibly earn me a longer sex ban.  I stared at his shoulders for a moment, arguing with myself internally as to whether or not I was actually going to do this, then swallowed hard and looked up at him.

"Where?"

He shook his head.  "Anywhere you want.  Would you like me to sit so you can reach me better?"  He grabbed the chair from the desk and dragged it toward him, sitting in it with his knees wide apart.  "Come on," he whispered, motioning with his hands for me to sit on his lap.  I hesitated, not sure I really understood what was happening, but I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to sit on him and something was pulling me like an invisible rope tied around my subconscious, telling me to obey him even though my conscious mind was confused and scrabbling for an explanation.  I made my decision to do as I was told and pushed his knees together so that I could straddle his thighs, scooting up close to him so that our stomachs were touching.  "No funny business," he warned me, grabbing my hands and holding them away from him for a moment.  "I mean it Anja."

I nodded obediently, my eyes falling to his chest.  I watched it rise and fall with his breathing, suddenly hungry for the taste of his skin.  I lowered my head and licked him, just below his collarbone.

"Don't make me punish you Anja.  Trust me, you won't like it.   _I said bite, not lick."_  He put my hands on his shoulders and I immediately grabbed his neck, resisting the urge to grind up against him.  His voice was driving me as crazy as his scent was, all deep and growly and threatening, promising punishment and oozing dominance.  I groaned and let my head drop back, trying to push the images of wolves and twisted bedsheets and wet thighs and heaving bellies out of my mind.  His voice broke in again, reminding me why we were here.  "This isn't for pleasure girly, it's to relieve your frustration and clear your head."

I got myself under control enough to close my eyes tight and lower my head in submission.  His voice had that unmistakable tone that meant business, and I knew not to defy him - he had a tendency to give smacks to the backside that didn't leave any room for enjoyment, and although even the prospect of that made me groan with agonized arousal, I struggled to behave.  I leaned forward with my hands on his shoulders and pressed my mouth to his chest, just above his left nipple.  The muscle there flinched as I applied pressure and I could feel his heart beating beneath my lips.  It was incredibly erotic.

I heard his breath leave his lungs in a long, slow exhale that excited me almost to the point of frenzy; that was all it took to cloud over the last of my sensible humanity and replace it with the lust-blinded animal that I'd been fighting.  Without thinking, my head an empty shell without a coherent thought to be found within its walls, I gave his skin a sloppy, hard suck before I bit down.

The sensation was frightening and exhilarating and arousing in the most violent way I could comprehend, and when I heard him moan I dug my teeth in harder, ignoring the last shred of civilized decency in me, ignoring my own last attempt to talk myself out of going too far, giving completely in to the raging burning pain in my gut that kept telling me it could only be relieved by _this_.  Tom's hands came up to grip my shoulders tightly but he didn't stop me, just dug his fingers in and kept me still so that I couldn't rub myself on the growing thickness in his lap. His breathing was quick and ragged and I could feel his heart beating under my palms but I didn't stop, not until I felt his blood run down my chin.

It was a long moment before I realized what it was.

The sensation shocked me back into myself like a blast of cold water and I released his skin from between my teeth, jerking my head up in complete and utter shock.

"Oh my god - _fucking hell Tom!"_

I stared at his chest in surprise, unable to believe what I'd done.  There was an angry red and purple mark the size of my mouth, smeared with blood that oozed slowly from two small tears where my teeth had punctured him.  A drip of dark red blood was slowly trickling down over his nipple and it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do to keep myself from bending over and licking it off.  But the sudden jolt of disbelief in what had just occurred brought my capacity to think back with it, and my mind was now blessedly clear.

I wiped at my chin with the back of my hand.  It came away bloody.  That in itself was enough to freak me right the hell out, but when I looked at Tom's face, everything else faded into insignificance.  No meaning, no matter.  

His head was dropped back, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open.  His stomach was heaving against mine and his hands were trembling on my shoulders, though they were still gripping me tightly.  It became disturbingly clear very quickly that it wasn't pain I was seeing on his face and in his posture.  

He looked exactly like he did in the first moments immediately following our most primal, uninhibited, animalistic sex.

I was looking at pure, unadulterated satisfaction.

"Tom, are you okay?"  I tentatively touched his face, my eyes falling to the throbbing pulse in the side of his neck.  "Say something."

After a few moments he finally raised his head, opening his eyes to look at me.  His pupils were fully blown, his turquoise eyes completely black.  He seemed almost dazed, but when he shifted to straighten his back a moment later I realized he was, as always, fully in control.

"Let me up, baby," he said quietly, patting the side of my leg.  I obeyed and got up off his lap.  My hands were shaking and I couldn't stop wiping at my mouth, trying to get his blood off my tongue.  It tasted salty and coppery and I absolutely didn't want it there.  What I wanted even less was the knowledge that just a few moments earlier I had had to overcome an unbearably erotic urge to press my mouth to the injury and suck it.

He stood up and walked to the bathroom, slightly unsteady, leaning over the sink until I came in behind him and put my hands on his back to let him know I was there.  Why I did that, I don't know...he always knew exactly where I was, even when he couldn't see me.

"Hand me that towel please," he said quietly.  

I handed it to him and watched as he wiped the blood from his chest, revealing the prints of my teeth in his skin.  I flinched, in complete disbelief again that I had done that to him.  I'd never bitten another person in my life aside from the love bites I gave him from time to time - but I had never drawn blood with those, ever, nor had I ever had any desire to.  I stared at him in the mirror as he wet the towel in the sink and held it to the wound, flinching slightly, raising his eyes to meet mine in the reflection.  It was then that I realized he had that dreamy, slightly sleepy look that he always got after an orgasm. It confused me and something started to feel horribly unsettled in the pit of my stomach.  When I looked up again, he winked at me.

He unzipped and opened his pants, pushing them down on his hips just far enough to take his cock out. It was wet, sticky, and the hair between it and his belly was matted and damp.  He wiped at it with the bloody towel and it finally became clear to me... _he had climaxed from me biting him._

It was disturbing on a profoundly deep level, both horrifying and oddly arousing, and I found myself blinded again by my most primitive needs. I pushed myself up against his back, grinding my hips against his leg, groaning with an all consuming need to fuck him now.  He ignored me while he cleaned himself up, finally dropping the towel into the sink and zipping his pants while I whimpered in protest, finally finding my voice enough to beg him to take me right there in the bathroom.

"Stop it, Anja," he warned me.  He turned around to face me and grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me hard, just once, hard enough to snap my head back and get my attention.  "Look at me.   _Stop."_

I opened my eyes and looked at him.  His eyes had gone back to normal and the look of blissful contentment was gone from his face.  I whined and reached for him but he turned me around and pushed me away from him to arm's length, landing a hard swat on my bottom that stung badly enough to bring tears to my eyes.

"Now behave yourself," he growled from behind me as he pushed me out of the bathroom ahead of him.  "I've got another hour of unloading before Ewan gets here to open."

 

I sat at the bar holding a cold water to my forehead and pouting as he finished his work.  The shock had worn off rather quickly, but every time I looked at him my stomach clenched up.  There were bandaids in the office, but he hadn't bothered to put one on the bite, leaving it uncovered so that his blood soaked through his teeshirt.  Each time he walked past me I tried not to look, but my eyes were drawn to the red stain over his heart and god help me, that overheated place between my legs reacted by gushing out a new dose of hopeful lubrication despite my best efforts to make it behave.  It wasn't helping that I could actually smell his blood.  But I did have to admit to myself that he'd been right - I felt better, the worst part of the ache dulled over, still there but not quite as painful as before.  I could think clearly again.

"Why am I so turned on by this?" I finally asked him as he was stocking bottles under the bar near me.  I could hear him chuckle a little, but he didn't look at me.  I watched him until my girlybits started to throb again, then turned my attention back to my water bottle.

"Because you're becoming more like me," he said quietly, after a long moment.  There was a lilt of amusement to his voice and I thought for a second that he was mocking me, but when I looked at him he was straight faced, concentrating on his work.

"Like you, how?"

He didn't answer.  I fiddled with the label on my bottle.  "Am I becoming an alpha?"

There was a loud rattling of glass as he hefted a big crate onto the bar.  "I told you already, Anja.  You've always been an alpha female.  You're just finally paying attention to what that brings with it."

"You mean biting and blood and sniffing people's crotches and having an eternally wet pussy."

He gave me a sideways look, one eyebrow arched.  "Yeah, if you want to reduce it to that."

"Awesome.  So I'm devolving into an animal."

He stopped in front of me and leaned down on his elbows on the bar, his face just inches from mine, a chilling smirk tugging at his lips.  "Who says becoming an animal is _devolving?"_

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

I scrambled at work all week, desperately trying to stay on top of everything so I could avoid any overtime.  One late night with Mr Laing and there could be trouble, I felt the possibility hanging over me keenly, like a constant unspoken threat.  Tom had marked me again, making sure his scent was all over me to keep the sniffers at arms length while my cycle was peaking, but Laing was a different kind of animal - I could sense it.  He was a stronger alpha even than Tom, and he had no interest in mating up, just like Tom had said.  Finding a female to bond to wasn't on his agenda. Mounting every skirt in the building was. And he'd been eyeing my skirt with a particularly interested eye lately.

I managed to avoid him until Friday, when I was shutting down my office and my luck suddenly ran out.

He knocked on my open door and stood there with a devastating smile, his hands tucked deep into his pockets, leaning back on the doorframe.

"I need you, Anja."

"Sorry Mr Laing, I'm afraid that tall dark haired guy that brings me lunch would have something to say about that.  Probably a lot of four-letter somethings."

He laughed, looking down at the floor and then giving me his win-them-over-with-a-grin face, looking at me out of the tops of his eyes with his head tipped down.  "As intriguing as the prospect of a brawl with your boyfriend for domination over you sounds, I'm afraid I unfortunately mean something very different this time."  He came to my desk and dropped a file in front of me that he'd had tucked under his arm. "The Coleman merger."

I opened the cover on the file and glanced at it.  "Yeah, it's in corporate's hands now.  We're done with it."

"They've commissioned us to handle it at the negotiations level."

"What?!"

"Thanks in no small part to your hard work and dedication.  So I'm taking you with me."  He turned and headed for the door as I stood dumbfounded, staring after him.  "We leave on Tuesday.  Pack for London.  I think it's particularly rainy there right now."

"But - "

He stopped in the doorway and turned back to me again with an entirely different look on his face than he'd had when he entered my office.  I realized then that he'd been close enough to catch a good whiff of my scent.  I was glad Tom had marked me the previous night, but even though Laing seemed to be respecting the mark, he didn't seem to be able to leave the claim unchallenged.

"Don't let him keep you in a sub position for too long, Anja.  You're far more than that."  He smiled, but it wasn't sincere and it wasn't cheerful.  It was the smile of an apex predator allowing its prey to slip away just briefly before pouncing again for the death bite.

"And if you ever want to try something... _new_...you know where to find me."

 

I sat at my desk for a while, thinking about what had just transpired.  

_A brawl with your boyfriend for domination over you._

What the hell?  What kind of person says something like that?  Not a fight to win my hand, a brawl to see _who gets to dominate me_.  Just the fact that he worded it that way was all the proof I needed that he was looking at me as a full blown alpha eyeing his next conquest.  There was no way this could end well.

There had been a distinct chill in the air when he was in my office, an electrically charged sensation of tension and heightened awareness.  It was difficult to define and even harder to understand, since nothing had actually happened, but it was there nonetheless.  He used the same terms Tom did, addressed me the same way, as if he knew that I would understand what he meant.  Was there a whole other world hidden somewhere on the fringes that I'd never heard about until Tom ungraciously initiated me into the ranks of the aware?  A world that Laing knew about?  And what did he mean by not letting Tom keep me in a sub position for too long?  I knew I was a sub, I was  _Tom's_  sub, there was no doubting or denying it.  I preferred to be under him, subjecting myself to his domination.  That was how I was made, it was who and what I was. So what was Laing talking about? _I'm far more than what?_  

Talking out his ass most likely, I decided.  Just trying to lure me into his trap.  I'd seen him doing his thing so many times in both the courtroom and the board room, spinning his pretty summations, making the most horrid of details sound like petty nothingness to be disregarded while playing up minutia into bright bold importance.  He was good at what he did.  There was no way his talent didn't spill over into the bedroom as well.

A bedroom whose ceiling tiles I was never going to count.  Tom owned me, my heart and body were his just the way I wanted it, and no amount of seduction by Laing was going to catch my interest.

I sighed and closed my briefcase, picking up my shoes and heading for the door.  With any luck, Tom would be available for a quickie in the back room of the pub and then I could go home and rest and figure out a way to tell him I was going to London with my sexually aggressive alpha boss. The boss he personally despised.  The boss he'd warned me to stay as far as possible from.

 _This isn't going to go well_  was all I could think as I shut off the lights and closed the door behind me.

 

Being Friday night, the pub was packed as usual.  I gave Tom a smile as I headed for the back table, shivering a little on the inside when he smiled back.  The way I reacted to him was changing again - where active dislike at the beginning had morphed into disinterested tolerance, to amicable curiosity, into heated attraction and then intense affection, I was now getting that silly schoolgirl thing where I couldn't wait to see him again and just a glance from him made me feel all tingly.  I wasn't sure what to call this most recent phase, but it was pleasant enough.  I was even starting to find him handsome in a sleek, dark God of Mischief kind of way.

I sat down across from Chris and immediately got not one but two evil eyes from Kady.  She hadn't spoken to me in almost a week.  I gave her an apologetic smile but she wasn't having it, so I sighed and started talking to Chris's girlfriend - I'd only met her twice and now here she was, at our table, initiated into the ranks of our buddy gang.  I wondered if she knew the same things I did.  

Tom came over and set a cappuccino in front of me, like he'd been doing nearly every night for the last two years.  I could smell the vanilla wafting off of it and reached up to take his hand as he slid his palm across my shoulder.  

"Hey baby," he said, leaning over to kiss me on the lips.  

"Hey.  I need to talk to you when you get a minute."

"Sure, let me give Ewan a heads up."

He gave me another quick kiss, tugging my hair.  I heard him whistle to get Ewan's attention, and the two did their across-the-crowded-room sign language till Ewan nodded his understanding that he was now in charge.  Tom squeezed my shoulders and took my hand to pull me up from my seat and lead me to the back.  

Once we were inside the office and the door was closed behind us, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me, slow and deep.

"Mmmm," he moaned into the kiss.  "Long day?"

I pushed up against him and hugged his neck.  "Not bad, but I got some news that I'm not thrilled about."

He pulled his head back and gave me a look.  "What sort of news?"

I decided it would be best to just suck it up and blurt it out without trying to pretty it up.  "I'll be gone for six days. Business trip."

He looked at me, his previously calm expression now showing just the slightest flicker of alarm.  He didn't say anything.

"It's a corporate thing," I continued, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.  "Will you mark me before I go?  So I can feel safe, at least for a few days?"

He nodded, then added almost as an afterthought, "Of course."  I knew he didn't like this bit of news, the prospect of me being away from him, and he suddenly seemed distracted.  I hadn't mentioned yet that Laing would be going too.

"I'll be around suits the whole time...it's a huge thing, we'll be on the job round the clock, all business."  His expression was slowly clouding over and I could tell he was liking the idea less and less the more he thought about it.  He sat down on the edge of the desk and pulled me toward him, keeping my arms around his neck.  "It's not like we'll be going out clubbing in the evenings.  I doubt these guys would be the type anyway." I was rambling now and my discomfort wasn't lost on him.

"The ones in the suits are the ones you need to watch out for," he said with a frown.  "Late night in an empty office building, someone slips brandy into a coffee cup and the next thing you know you're spread-eagled across a conference room table with your hands tied up in some guy's silk Ferragamo tie.  I'd _rather_ you were out clubbing, you'd be safer."

I didn't really know what else to say...my feeble attempt to make him - and myself - feel better about the situation had crashed and burned.  I decided I might as well come completely clean and bit my lip for a moment, then timidly added, "And it's in London."

His reaction wasn't as bad as I expected, maybe because he was looking at my face and knew from my expression that I was waiting for something terrible.  He sighed, shaking his head for a moment.

"Is Laing going?"

I didn't dare hesitate or he would think I was toying with the idea of not telling him.  I nodded quickly, looking him straight in the eyes.  "Yes."

"Anyone else from your firm?"

"A couple of the upper level guys."

"You're the only female?"

"Yeah."  I gave him a sheepish look.  "I did all the legwork on this merger, him taking me to this is like a total acknowledgment that I'm responsible for us getting this contract and that's really...its...umm..."  I stopped talking because he was just sitting there, looking at me.  He finally smiled a little and tapped my nose with his finger.

"And you're proud of yourself.  You should be.  I'm proud of you too."  I exhaled with relief and he pulled me by my hips till I was completely up against him.  "Don't feel bad about this, Anja.  You worked for it."

"But you're not happy about it."

"I'm happy that you're doing so well and getting the recognition you deserve."

"But you're still not happy."

"Stop.  You were excited a moment ago, where did that go?"  He gave me a disapproving look and then kissed my forehead as he stood up.  "Stay here, I have something for you."

He went to the other side of the desk and opened the drawer, pulling out a little box.  He came back around and lifted me up, sitting me on the desk and situating himself between my knees, setting the box next to my leg.  "Give me your hand."

Confused, I lifted my hand and he promptly stuck my thumb in his mouth.

"Oh now that's not weird at all.  What are you doing?"

He looked at me and shook his head, unable to speak with his mouth full.  "Why are you sucking my thumb you perv?  Stop, that feels funny."

He popped my thumb out of his mouth and picked up the little box, putting it in my hand.  "Open it."  

I did as I was told, opening the lid on the box.  It was heavy wood and intricately carved with what looked like a mythological wolf.  "This is pretty," I said, cringing at the creaking sound the hinges made when I opened it.  Inside were two wide silver bands.  "What's this?"  He had my thumb in his mouth again and I giggled as his tongue slithered over it, squirming from the strange sensation.  "Would you stop?  Why are you sucking my thumb?  Seriously, it's soggy already."

"I need it soggy," he said, pulling it out again and taking the smaller band from the box.

"What for?"

"For this."  He pushed the band onto my thumb, forcing it over my knuckle.  It went on with no trouble since my skin was so slick and soft from being sucked, but I got the distinct feeling it wasn't going to be coming off.  I flexed my thumb once it was on, looking up at him.  He gave me a self satisfied grin.  "It has to be tight so that you can never take it off."

I looked at it.  Wide, silver, and it covered half my thumb, from the first to second joint.  Pretty, in an austere, simple sort of way.  I was still staring at it when the realization hit me that he had just put a ring on my finger. Well, _thumb_...but still.  And he had his own thumb in his mouth now.

"Wait - is this...are we...?"

There was a wicked gleam in his eyes when he took his thumb out of his mouth and  leaned close to breathe into my ear.

"I just collared you, baby girl.  But in a less conspicuous way than a throat collar, in deference to your rising position at the firm."  His voice had a teasing inflection to it and he was barely concealing a grin.  "It would never do for someone on her way to the upper echelon to have such an obvious sign of submission around her neck, now would it?  Besides, somehow I don't think a spiked leather choker would go with your power suits."

I didn't know what to say.  Questions were popping into my head, fueled by my innate need for details, but I truly only needed to know one thing at that moment.  "What's it mean?"

His teasing grin became a sincere smile, deep with a warmth I saw often from him, but now tempered with something else I had no name for.  When he answered, his voice was soft and kind.

"It means we're mated.  I've claimed you and you've submitted to the claim.  We're paired for life, until the day you no longer want to be my mate."

I felt myself smiling.  "What if that day never comes?  What happens if we stay together forever?"

"Then I suppose we stay together forever."

I was shocked at how happy his answer made me.  I tried to keep a straight face, but I knew I was failing miserably by the expression that was coming across his.  He took my hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing the silver band.

"You can live with me if you want.  Or if you want to keep your independence, that's fine too.  I won't impose any rules on you or make you give anything up for me.  If you decide one day you want kids, I'll give you kids.  You can come and go as you please, but you stay loyal to me, and I'll do the same for you."

"So, like married, but better."

"Yep.  Like married, but better."

I thought about this for a few seconds, then reached up and took his hand, opening my mouth and taking his thumb in against my tongue.  I sucked it sensually, letting him press up against me while I did it, our bodies rocking back and forth against each other.  After a couple of minutes I picked up the other band from the box and slipped it onto his thumb.

"I submit to your claim."

 

That night in bed he kicked out from under the covers and lay beside me, naked, stretched out half asleep as I moved away to let him get comfortable.  He'd worked half the night and then come home and made love to me too many times to count; I knew he had to be exhausted, but something in me just wouldn't let him sleep.  I felt excited about him making his claim official, but nervous at the same time about my trip. The collaring was just in time.  Laing would have to respect the claim now...wouldn't he?

Tom arched his back, his vertebrae making a few cracking sounds, then reached one long arm out and pushed it under me, pulling me close to him again.  

"Why did you let me do this to you?" I asked, propping up on his chest to very lightly kiss the fading bite mark over his heart.  It had been almost a week since it happened and we had never discussed it.

He grunted sleepily.  "Let you?  I _made_ you."

"Yes, but...did you know I was going to draw blood?"

He wrapped his arm around my neck, squeezing just a little too hard, purposefully.  "Of course.  The mood you were in, I expected to lose a lot more than that."

I thought about this for a moment.  It was becoming blaringly apparent that he trusted me implicitly.  It was also obvious that he was a kinky fucker.

"You got off on it."

He opened one eye and stared at me.  "Does that freak you out?"

I thought about that for a moment, too.  Since the night he'd walked me home just a little over a month ago and stayed the night, putting both his mark and his claim on me, literally nothing he did freaked me out anymore. Which was interesting, because up until that point, he could freak me out just by looking at me.

"No, I guess not.  I just wasn't expecting it."  I traced a circle around the bite with my fingertip.  "Did it hurt?"

He laughed.  "Of course it hurt.  You've got a fucking set of jaws, girly."  He opened both eyes then and looked at me.  "What did you learn from it?"

"That...umm...you like to be bitten?"

He smacked me on the backside, hard.  I jerked against him with a yelping curse.

"Fuck!  When I'm really totally out of control horny and you're not there to help I should bite something," I rattled off hurriedly.

He lowered the hand that had been poised over my bottom for another smack, but didn't take it completely out of striking range.

"Bite _what?"_

"Some guys nipple, I don't know."

He gave me another smack, even harder than the first.

"Wrong.  You bite yourself.  You never _ever_ get close enough to another man to bite him when you're in heat."

"Okay, okay damnit, god stop hitting me that hurts.  You didn't tell me that part."

He pulled his hand up again and I flinched, pushing against him and groaning in half dread, half arousal.  His smacks always got my attention, leaving a stinging, tender welt that usually stayed with me all day, along with whatever lesson he'd used it to teach me.  But something about him punishing me that way was crotch tinglingly sexy and it never failed to set something deep inside me aflame.  The bad part was that he knew it.

Right that moment I didn't need anything else adding to my horniness, so I buried my face in his shoulder and whispered _"I'll be good, please don't hit me."_

A grin tugged at his lips and in the half dark the look on his face was smug and happily amused.  I knew he had genuine affection for me, but I also knew our relationship was evolving along with my awareness of myself.  There was definitely something binding between us, something he described as a primal bond, but that felt strangely like something else as well, something that was either indefinable or that I just didn't want to put a name to.  I raised my hand and looked at the silver band hugging my thumb.

I put it out of my mind and snuggled in closer to him.

"So I bite myself to distract and refocus."

"Yes.  Back of the wrist is good.  Draw blood if you have to.  It's easier to do to yourself than to someone else, so you shouldn't have any problem."

"I guess I passed that test huh?" I asked, my fingers sneaking across his chest to lightly brush across the bruise that surrounded his torn skin.

"All except the part where you panicked like a damn amateur."

I don't know what came over me, but his words sparked something deep and angry and I sat up, moving over quickly to sit straddling his stomach. I looked him straight in the eyes as I reached down and pushed my finger hard into the bite.

His reaction wasn't what I expected.  I thought he would yelp in pain and throw me over onto my back, reversing the dominant position and taking it back before pinning me and administering some sort of punishment.  But I had never done anything dominant or vicious like this to him before, and as it turned out, my assumption couldn't have been more wrong.

He tensed, sucking in his breath, but he never broke eye contact with me and he didn't move.  In his eyes was a blatant, naked challenge.   _Do it again._

Determined to get a reaction from him, I twisted my finger, pushing hard against one of the two punctures where my teeth had sunk into his skin. There was a deep, low groan far down in his throat and his eyes half shut for just a moment.  I felt his stomach muscles tense and tighten under me.  Holy shit, _this was turning him on._

And even holier shit... _It was turning me on, too._

I moved my hand to his face, leaving the other braced against his chest to keep me balanced in case he decided suddenly to pitch me over off him.  I let my fingertips stroke lightly across his mouth; his lips parted and I slipped one finger in between his teeth, letting him suck it as I began slowly grinding myself on his hard stomach, rubbing my suddenly damp pussy against the heated skin of his belly.

The friction was just slippery enough to feel good and I moaned his name as I bent forward to press my mouth to the bite, licking it gently.  It sent a violent shiver through me, the tangy taste of scabbed blood and damaged skin, and I felt Tom's hands come up to my hips to hold me.  He moaned almost inaudibly as I moved my mouth lower, just below the bite, and took his nipple between my lips.

His fingers dug into my hips and he sucked harder on my finger that was still in his mouth.  I'd never seen him like this, stripped of his aggressive dominance, allowing me to take the lead.  I felt sure it wouldn't last long, but I paid attention, committing to memory the things he reacted strongly to.  I was learning more about him in this moment than I had in an entire month of sleeping with him.  What purpose it would serve me, I had no idea...but I planned to make him proud.

"I _am_ a damn amateur," I scolded him as I flicked my tongue out to tease his nipple, dragging a hiss from his lips as he bit down on my finger.  His hands on my hips gripped tighter, his long strong fingers digging in, pulling me down harder on him.  I could feel his cock behind me, stiffening, waking up and taking interest in the proceedings as I licked and sucked at the hard little pinkish brown nub between my teeth.  I pushed a second finger into his mouth as I dragged my tongue across the center of his chest to his other nipple, licking and teasing it before I gave it a hard nip, listening with a smug sense of accomplishment as another groan rumbled in his chest.

I pushed my fingers far enough into his mouth to gag him, but he flattened his tongue and sucked them harder.  

 _How does he know how to do that?_ I wondered.  I barely knew how to do it myself.  Just as I was thinking that there was too much I didn't know about him, he bucked his hips up and rubbed his thick engorged cock against the crack of my ass.

"Fuck me, Anja," he hissed, pulling my fingers out of his mouth and sitting up under me to bite at my breast as he tugged me closer.  I leaned back, resisting, surprised at this turn of events.  He was asking me to fuck him?  Not tossing me onto my back and plowing into me while growling and covering me in teeth marks?  I looked down at him as he nuzzled into me, his lips soft and warm as he pulled at my nipples with them.  His entire demeanor was different than what I was used to.

"Okay, baby," I whispered, unsure as to what he wanted me to do, but willing to give it a go regardless.  I raised up on my knees and pushed him down on his back again, lowering myself onto his cock so that just the tip was pressing into me.  I looked at his face to see if he was going to lead me in any way, but his eyes were closed and he was breathing through his mouth, a look of pure need on his face.  We'd already had sex several times, but I was still craving him badly.  Neither of us was ready to quit yet.

I pushed down onto him, taking as much of him into me as I could handle.  I was sore from our previous fucking and groaned heavily as I tried to take him all, but the stretching felt like tearing and I leaned forward to support my weight on my hands.

"You're too...fucking... _big,"_ I moaned painfully, wriggling my hips in a circular motion to try to ease more of him into me.  "Push up."

He took me by the hips, but instead of pushing into me, he held me off him.  "Don't hurt yourself, baby," he said quietly.  "Just make us come."

I did as I was told, moving up and down on him just enough to bring us to the brink, then slipping him out of me and putting his cock between us to finish.  The delicious friction of his shaft against my clit as I dragged my pussy forward and back on it quickly became overwhelming and I grabbed his hands, pushing his arms up over his head, grinding on him hard as I let my breasts rub against his chest.  I ran my tongue up the side of his face as I felt him letting go, then bit his earlobe as he released with a deep groan, spurting his come between us.  I pressed my belly against his and let his final thrusts rub the warm fluid into my skin, then reached down between us and finished myself quickly with my own fingers, biting him again as I came, refraining - just barely - from drawing blood this time.

 

"What was that all about?  Last night.  I know there was something behind it."

He gave me a dangerous look and I knew I was right - letting me take control was meant to teach me a lesson of some kind, I just didn't know what it was.  But I was quickly figuring that out about him...any time he deviated from his normal behavior, he was expecting me to learn something from it.

"That was about proving to you that you're an alpha female.  You can take over when the reins are handed to you.  So now you know, and you can feel confident enough to take over when an outside situation calls for it...like when other alphas are sniffing around and yours isn't nearby to rip their throats out."

"You're worried about London."

"I'm worried about Laing."

"I can handle Laing."

"Can you?"  He sat up and pushed me off him, tumping me over onto my back and moving over quickly to straddle me.  "Prove it."

I pushed against his chest as he lowered himself onto me.  "Stop it Tom, this isn't fair."

"It won't be fair when he does it to you either."  He grabbed my hands and shoved my arms up over my head, his fingers digging into my wrists so hard it hurt.

_"Stop it!!"_

"Make me.  Prove that you can do it, Anja.  Show me that you can stop him when he decides to stop playing around and rapes you in your hotel room five thousand miles away from me.   _Prove it!"_

I struggled and screamed, cursing him, but he just held me down without any real effort.  After a while I stopped thrashing and lay still under him, looking up into his face.  His expression made me flinch.  He was furious.

"That was pitiful."

"Tom, I - "

"Fucking pitiful, Anja!  If I was Laing I'd be so far inside you right now you'd be tasting my come in the back of your throat."  He released my hands and sat up, still straddling me.  "Congratulations, you just got raped by your boss.  Say hello to your new alpha."

He moved off me and got out of the bed, stalking across to the bathroom.  I felt like crying; his words stung like a slap in the face.

"Tom, wait.  I didn't...I didn't want to do anything that would hurt you.  If Laing came at me I would, without hesitation.  I promise, I would."

He turned and looked at me, his face still showing his disgust and anger.  He was disappointed with me and it hurt deep.  "Like you could hurt me.  You're a weak little girl, Anja.  The worst you could manage was to bite a chunk out of me and even that was more erotic than painful.  You're scared to use force and that's going to get you hurt."

"I could hurt you if I tried!"

"Oh yeah?"  He came back to the bed and leaned over me, his face close to mine. _"Prove it!"_

I didn't know what to do, now that the challenge was issued.  He was right, completely right - I'd been raised to be a good girl, always polite, never to do anything to hurt anyone else, to be a proper lady and mind my manners.  I was at a total loss as to what I was supposed to do.

"I...I can't...not with you just staring at me like that.  You have to do something.  Provoke me."

Without warning, he reached out and pushed me.  I fell back on the bed, bouncing from the force of the push.  I started to scramble backwards away from him, but he caught me with those incredibly long arms of his and hooked me by my ankles, yanking me back toward him.  I started to protest but he slapped a hand over my mouth, silencing me.

"We're in a hotel room in London and you're stuck with a man whose strength outguns you by a thousand times over.  A man whose determination to possess you knows no limits.  A man who's not afraid to hurt you if you don't give him what he wants."  To stress his point, he tightened his fingers over my mouth, digging into my face painfully.  "He won't respect you, he'll laugh at your limits, and he'll mark you cruelly to spite me. _What are you going to do about it?"_

Tears spilled out of the corners of my eyes but I couldn't make any sound.  With his other hand he reached down between my legs and pushed my thighs apart, shoving his knee up between them to keep them open.  "Crying will do nothing but make him hornier, Anja.  He gets off on power and you're giving it to him.  Stop crying!"

Without thinking, I pushed my hand between us and punched him in the chest, hard, right where I'd bitten him.  The breath left his lungs in a harsh hiss of pain and I took the opportunity to grind my fist into the wound while he was momentarily off guard.  It was enough to allow me to push him to the side enough to slide out from under him and scramble off the bed, but before I could take two steps toward the door his arm shot out and grabbed me around the waist, dragging me back to the bed again.  He had me from behind, with my back against his chest, so I threw my head back and slammed it into his collarbone.  I saw stars for a moment and he cursed, releasing his grip on me just enough for me to escape again.  I ran to the far side of the room and grabbed one of his boots, holding it up like a weapon.

He was bent over, rubbing his collarbone, and looked up at me; the look of anger had been replaced with one of...amusement?  What the hell?  Did he actually have the nerve to be _enjoying this?_

"What are you going to do with that, throw it?"  He laughed, a bit breathless, and I noticed his chest wound was bleeding.

"Oh shit Tom, you're - "

While I was distracted by his injury he took the opportunity to cross the room in a few long, quick strides and grabbed me again, throwing me to the floor.  He didn't even try to go easy and my landing knocked the breath out of me.

"Congratulations, you just got fucked up the ass without your permission by a man who _isn't scared of your shoe."_

"Goddammit Tom!" I gasped, trying to roll over so I could catch my breath.  His knees were on both sides of me and I couldn't move, so I lay there choking and crying.  He kneeled over me and put his face close to mine again.

"Do you know where you fucked up?  Hmm?  Your fatal mistake was that you cared about hurting me.  You were busy being all concerned mommy because you saw a little blood and you let _this_ happen."  He reached down and grabbed the neck of my sleep shirt, yanking it hard till it ripped right down the front.  "And now you've lost whatever advantage you gained by that little move - which by the way, was pretty good.   _Until_ you fucked up."

He put his full weight on me, pushing what little breath I had managed to get into my lungs right out again.  "You can't care, Anja.  You can't let compassion or concern cloud your defense.  You do your damage and you get the hell out.  You don't stop to see if he's alright, you don't cry because you drew a little blood.  You injure him enough to put space between you and you get your ass out of there."

I nodded, squirming under his weight.  "I will, I promise.  Let me up dammit...I'll do it, I just can't do it to _you."_

He shook his head in exasperation.  And then, before I had a chance to even realize what was happening, he slapped me across the face.  Not hard, but definitely enough to sting.

I stared at him in shock.

"What th - ?"

He drew back and did it again.  I was starting to get mad, a seething little ball of anger and outrage beginning to roil in my stomach, overtaking the shock.  "Don't hit me again," I warned him.

"Or what?  You'll throw your shoe at me?"  He raised his hand again and I went berserk before he had the chance to land the blow.  I got my hands free from between us and scratched him down the side of his face, _hard,_ hard enough to feel his skin under my nails, dragging down his neck, leaving long red marks.  I didn't know if it was blood or just abrasions, but in that fleeting moment I didn't care - he had hit me, twice, and it pissed me off to the point where I wanted to kill him.  In that split second moment of surprise where I had managed to distract him, I pushed him hard enough to get out from under him again, and this time I got to my feet and kicked him before I headed for the door.

 _"Fuck you Tom!!"_ I screamed at him.  "Don't you ever do that again!"

He rolled over onto his back, still on the floor, and I saw to my utter surprise that he was laughing.

"Good girl - _finally!"_   he muttered as he swiped at his neck with the back of his fist.  "It's about fucking time."  He looked over at me and smiled.  "That was much better."

"What?"  I stood staring at him in shock as he got up off the floor and gingerly pressed his fingers to his jaw, flinching.  The scratches were starting to bleed.  

"What did you just learn, girl?"

I shook my head in disbelief.  "That you're completely insane."

He just looked at me, and I couldn't bear the thought of disappointing him again despite the anger I still felt at what had just happened.  I knew he'd done it to show me what to expect if Laing decided to come after me, but I was still mad.  The look on his face told me that he approved of my rage.

"The lesson here is that you don't have to submit when an alpha demands something of you, just because he's an alpha.  Your first inclination will always be to do just that, but you have to let your second inclination take over at that point.  Your second inclination being to disobey and get the fuck out."

I looked at the floor and nodded.  He was right.  My first kneejerk reaction was always to obey.  And with Laing being my boss on top of it all...this was a recipe for disaster, unless I learned how to defy his perceived authority over me.

He came over to me and took my face in his hands, making me look up at him.  "You're such a sweet little sub, Anja.  You obey without question and you do as you're told.  You're perfect."  He kissed my forehead, then rested his against mine.  "But that same thing that makes you such a wonderful mate will be used against you by others if you're not very careful.  You have to learn that you can disobey an alpha."

"Except you, because you're _my_ alpha."

His expression softened and he looked at me with compassion.  "Baby, there's no hard law about that.  You can say no to me."  He stroked my face, where he'd slapped me, and his expression changed again to one of remorse.  I put my hand over his and squeezed his fingers, speaking before he had a chance to.

"I know why you did that, it's okay.  I'm sorry I made you do it...I know you have a rule against hitting."

"I had to make you angry, that was the only way that seemed likely - you weren't responding to anything else."  He lowered his head and brushed his lips very lightly across the heated skin of my cheek.  "I'm sorry."

I gingerly touched the scratches on his neck.  "I'm sorry about these."

He shook his head, smiling.  "Necessary sacrifices.  Just remember to react with that _first_ if he comes at you.  It bought you time and I doubt his reactions would be much different than mine.  It might be enough to get you away from him."  He stroked my jawline with the back of his finger. "And if that fails, go straight for the balls."

"I wasn't about to do that to you," I purred, pressing up against him, my mood quickly shifting as I sensed he was about to start the aftercare that he was so skilled at.  "I need you intact and functioning. Although I did think about it while you were mocking my shoe."

He laughed, a low, teasing chuckle that I felt in his chest as he pulled me closer with an arm around the small of my back.  "I think this whole episode has turned you on a bit.  Are you feeling empowered?"

"A bit...maybe."

He bent to pick me up and carried me back to the bed, sitting me down and quietly ordering me to lift my arms as he tugged my torn night shirt up over my head.  He dropped it to the floor and wrapped me in his embrace, nudging his lips against my throat as I took his hand and pulled it to my mouth.  I kissed the silver band on his thumb, closing my eyes when I felt the cool metal against my lips, opening my eyes a few moments later to see him watching me with a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.  He raised my hand to his lips, and did the same.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

 

 

The last couple of days before I left for London were bittersweet and over far too quickly.  Tom marked me thoroughly each night, giving me additional defense from the men I would be traveling with - specifically Laing, as I had no real concerns about the seventy year old accounts manager and the other two attorneys - but I knew my first and foremost protection was going to have to be my own determination to keep anything from happening. He'd taught me how to reel in my own urges in the event of a hormonal surge, and how to hopefully fend off amorous advances from wolfish bosses.  It would have to be enough.  I thought he would give me another rough drill on self defense and was actually looking forward to it, thinking I would impress him this time with my willingness to drop the ladylike tendencies and fight dirty, but he simply asked me if I remembered what I was supposed to do, and left it at that. He didn't talk much and I felt ridiculously sad, knowing he was worried about me.

I wanted to commit everything about him to memory, every strong line of muscle, every hard angle of bone, every mark on his pale skin, every expression in his turquoise eyes, so that he would stay in the front of my awareness every moment of our separation.  The quirk of his right eyebrow every time he looked at me, the curving lines at the corners of his mouth when he smiled...I drank it all in like someone about to cross the desert without any hope of finding water before it was too late.  Maybe if I drank enough now, before I walked away from him, I could make it.

I touched him all over; he lay still, watching me, letting me.  When I got to his left hip I stopped and lingered there, tracing the outline of the tattoo that started there and continued all the way down to his ankle. I'd never paid much attention to it before, but now as I looked closely at it, I found myself fascinated.  I'd always loved the way it peeked out just a tiny bit at the waist of his jeans, and would habitually run my fingertip across it when we kissed hello at the pub.  But now as I stared at the swirling mosaic of colors I saw a story unfolding, like a stained glass window in a cathedral, a pictorial tale that you always see in passing but are never truly touched by until you stop to really look.

"What is it?" I whispered, resting my chin on his stomach, lazily sliding my fingertip up and down the first segment of the tattoo, watching it rise and fall over his sharp hipbone.

"The evolution of Fenrir."

"Fenrir?  The wolf from your mythology book?"  I stroked the meticulously inked muzzle that pointed toward the cloud-shrouded moon above it.  It was beautiful artwork.

"Yes.  Loki's son."

I remembered this, or a bit of it anyway; he'd read me a passage from it once.  It was a book he treasured so I had never asked to take it home and read it myself, but now I felt an overwhelming urge to know more about this wolf he loved enough to ink onto his body.

"Can I take that book with me?" I asked, expecting him to say no.  "To read on the plane?  Maybe if I keep my nose buried in something besides the merger files I won't have to talk to the guys."

"Sure," he agreed immediately.  "Grab it on your way out, it's under the bed."

"Under the bed?"

"Yeah...I read it a lot, on nights when you're not here."

I laughed and kissed his stomach.  "You don't get much chance to read it anymore, do you."

He reached down and put his hand on my head, combing his fingers through my hair.  "Not so much these days, no."

 

I had to work the following morning even though it was the weekend; my department was putting the finishing touches on the merger files and since I was the project coordinator, my presence was required.  I hated it...I wanted desperately to spend every possible second with Tom until Tuesday, but he kissed me and told me to go put my mark on the world.  I could see in his smile and the light in his eyes that he was proud of me, and it made me feel better.  

I was picking up my clothes from the floor and glanced over at his closet when I noticed something for the first time.

"There's no door on your clo -"

I stopped myself mid-word and immediately wanted to crawl under the bed and die.  No door on his closet.   _Twelve year old boy, locked in the closet by his stepfather for two weeks._  Shit.  I quickly looked over at him to see what kind of damage I'd done.

He just glanced toward the closet and went back to lacing his boots.

"Actually it was off when I moved in.  I just never put it back."

I'd been holding my breath and the rush of relief nearly made me exhale loudly, but I held it in so he wouldn't realize how worried I'd been about triggering him.  Maybe he really hadn't thought anything of my comment, but if he did, he wasn't showing it.  I went to the bed and pushed his foot off his knee, replacing it with my bottom as I settled in on his lap and draped my arms around his neck.  He had just gotten out of the shower and his hair was still wet, his skin smelling like soap, but underneath that I could still catch a whiff of his pheromones.  I found it ironic that not so long ago I'd doubted everything he tried to tell me about the mysterious hormones that drew us together, and now here I sat, sniffing him, knowing exactly what it was I was smelling and understanding why it was affecting me the way it did.

"Are you sniffing me?" he asked, mimicking my former chagrin at being inhaled by him on our first date.  He gave me a cockeyed look and I brushed his wet hair back off his shoulders.  It was sleek and shiny and reminded me of a stallion's mane.

"I am.  What are you going to do about it?"

"Well I would toss you back onto the bed and have my way with you again...but you're going to be late as it is."

"But I don't have to shower because I'm wearing you to work - we have time for a quickie."

He shot me a menacing glare that was completely chilling in its predatory insistence.  "You want a quickie?  I'll give you a quickie."  He clutched one long arm around my stomach and threw me backwards onto the mattress, climbing on top of me so swiftly that I was still just beginning to laugh when he situated himself between my legs.  His mouth came down on mine and I felt him push into me, the penetration stinging as he stretched me without any advance preparation.  I loved it, the burning sensation of being opened this way.

"Oh god yes," I moaned, grabbing his still dripping hair and pulling hard, making him hiss as I yanked his head back.  I wondered for a split second if his aggression was a delayed response to my gaffe concerning the closet, but his voice growling nasty threats in my ear quickly drove that worry to the back of my mind and replaced it with a visceral need to just push up into him, meeting his feral passionate rutting with my own raging carnality.  It was fast and vicious and it hurt just enough to satisfy me, and when we charged blindly over the edge into that mind splitting abyss of blankness that precludes ecstasy, all our words were gone.  No more dirty mumblings, no more shouts of each other's names, just triumphant cries of release as our bodies slammed into one another hard enough to make the bed creak in protest.

 

My workday started off innocuously enough, arrival at the office uneventful, staff doing their jobs efficiently, my authority on this project being respected in an immensely fulfilling manner...until I went into the break room to get some coffee instead of sending my newly appointed assistant to get it for me.  Things were just going too smoothly and fate conspired to bring it all crashing down around my head.

Or around my chest, to be more precise.

One of the interns was already there, frantically pouring three cups of coffee and trying in only mildly contained panic to remember which was supposed to have sugar and which two got cream.  Since I was familiar with how practically everyone on this floor took their coffee, I approached him to try to help.  

"Is that for Simmons?" I asked, recognizing the middle mug with the Pi symbol as belonging to the cranky old accountant.  The intern hadn't seen me come in and jumped, spinning around with the carafe in his hand, slamming it squarely into my sternum.  It shattered, exploding scalding hot coffee all over me.

"Oh my god!" he screamed, standing there in shock with just the handle left in his grasp.  I had yelled the moment it hit me but after that all I could do was stand there, my mouth hanging open, my brain completely blank as the coffee burned into my skin.  I was soaked from my neck all the way down to the waistband of my skirt.

"Oh my god Miss Black I'm so sorry!!"

Laing was suddenly in the doorway, rushing in as soon as he saw what was going on.  His secretary Marla followed closely behind him and the two of them came straight to me to see if I was alright.  Laing took me by the arm and led me away from the pile of broken glass at my feet, steering me toward the table, while Marla fetched a roll of paper towels and started mopping at the front of my blouse.

"Are you hurt?" Mr Laing asked me, his brow furrowed with concern.  When I didn't answer right away, he reached for the top button of my blouse and opened it, checking to see if I was burned.  "Anja, you're going to need to go to the ER and have this looked at."

I shook my head, finally dragging myself out of the stunned shock of being hit with hot liquid.  The initial blow of the carafe crashing into me had been painful enough, but the skin on my upper chest felt like it was on fire.  "I'm okay, I'm fine.  It's not bad, it's just _hot."_

Laing frowned.  "Marla, go get the first aid kit from the supply closet please darling."  He looked back at me again and put his hands lightly on my knees, giving them a little squeeze.  "Think you can walk back to your office?"

I nodded and started to stand up, a bit shakily, as he slipped an arm around my waist to lend support.  "I'm fine, really, thank you."  I shrugged his arm off me, trying not to seem rude; he didn't seem to notice and promptly moved to take his suit jacket off as his eyes dropped to my chest.  I looked down and winced in embarrassment - my blouse, soaked with coffee, had become almost completely transparent.

Laing quickly wrapped his jacket around my shoulders and pulled it shut in front.

"Quinn, when Marla comes back please send her to Miss Black's office."

The intern stopped sweeping up the broken glass and began apologizing profusely as we walked out together.  "Just do it, Quinn - and then get that mess cleaned up!" 

 

Mr Laing guided me to the sofa in my office and sat me down, pulling up my desk chair to sit knee to knee with me as he leaned forward to look at me more closely.  "Are you certain you don't want to have a doctor look at you?" he asked, the absolute authority in his voice almost making me change my mind and agree to it.  Almost - but not quite.   _You can say no to an alpha._

"No, thank you - I'm really fine, just a little bit scalded."  I looked down at my now-sheer blouse as I removed his jacket and handed it back to him.  I didn't want his scent on me.  "And soaked."

His eyes went to my chest and lingered there; I knew he could see my lacy bra as clearly as if I wasn't wearing the blouse at all.  Something flickered in his eyes for just a moment, then he looked at my face again and smiled.

"If you're sure."

I met his stare and didn't flinch when I saw the heat flare up in his steely blue irises.  "I'm sure."

Marla arrived with the first aid kit and handed it to him.  I immediately reached for it, taking it from his hands and getting up to go to my desk.  There was no way I was going to allow him to spray burn ointment on my chest.  "I've got this, thanks.  I even have an extra shirt here somewhere."  I opened the kit and started rummaging through it, trying to hide my nervousness as Laing watched me.  He finally nodded and got up, pushing my chair back to my desk, touching my elbow briefly as he smiled at me again.

"There's my good girl," he purred seductively, all suggestive praise with a heavy hint of dominance in his voice.  "Professional and dedicated as always."

I kept my eyes on him as he left, waiting until he was gone and I couldn't hear his footsteps in the hallway any more before I slumped into my chair and yanked my blouse open, sending buttons flying.  The burn was worse than I'd let on, but there was just no way I could safely let Laing tend to me.  I got the pack of wet wipes that I always kept in my drawer and dabbed carefully at my skin, washing the coffee off, then I sprayed the burn ointment onto my hand and gingerly applied it to the rapidly reddening spots all over my chest and stomach.  As I pulled on the clean spare blouse I kept in my filing cabinet, I kept hearing Laing's voice in my head... _There's my good girl._

It gave me a cold shiver that never went away until quitting time, when I fished my cellphone out of my desk and texted Tom that I was on my way home.

 

"Did you fuck him?!?"

I tried to yank away from him, but his grip on my arm was too tight.

"What?!  Stop it Tom.  Of course I didn't, are you insane?"  I gave him a shocked look and pulled hard against his grasp again, but he wasn't about to let me go.

"There's no other reason for me to smell him all over you!" he growled, yanking me toward him, wrenching my elbow hard enough to make me yelp.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

_"He's all over you Anja!!"_

Realization dawned on me quickly - Laing's jacket.  I hadn't gotten it off soon enough and Tom's keen nose had picked him up the moment I walked into the house.   _Shit._  It wasn't his fault that this was happening, but I'd had enough - the whole day had been a clusterfuck from the moment I stepped into the breakroom that morning and now I had this to deal with.  I had a perfectly valid explanation, but I knew he wasn't going to calm down enough to listen to it until I put some space between us so that Laing's scent wouldn't be so overpowering.  I put my hand against his chest and shoved him, hard.

"Get away from me," I snarled.  "Get your hands off me and  _walk away from me now_."  He immediately let go of my arm and blinked, surprise registering on his face as I stood my ground.  He took two steps back and nodded, silently acknowledging my command; whether it was a conscious action or not, I couldn't believe it had worked.

Emboldened by this turn of events, I let my anger at him show in my voice.  "The reason you smell him all over me is because he was a perfect gentleman today.  Someone dumped an entire pot of coffee all down my front - "  I pulled my shirt up so he could see my burns, still red and inflamed, " - and he tended to the situation."

"Holy _fuck_ Anja!" he exclaimed in shock, his eyes widening when he saw what had happened to me.  He reached for me but I put my shirt back down and shoved my hand out in a stop gesture.

"Don't come near me.  Back up now."  He stopped in mid-reach and didn't come any closer, but the expression on his face was now one of concern, the rage from just a moment ago completely erased.  "The reason you smell him all over me is because when my blouse got wet it instantly became _completely see through._  He took his jacket off and put it on me.  THAT is why you smell him." 

His eyes were trained on my neck where some of the hot coffee had splashed, leaving angry red splotches in my skin.  "I'm sorry, Anja.  I just...I know what I smell."

"Yeah, and you're right, you smell him - I'm not denying that.  But that's _why_ you smell him."

He was shaking his head, the look on his face rapidly becoming angry again.  "No, that's not it."

I stared at him, dumbfounded.  "It's not?  Then what is it?"  He didn't answer and I could see his nostrils flaring, the olfactory assault of Laing on my skin pushing him into rage.  "You don't trust me?  Seriously?"

"I do trust you, but scent doesn't lie."  He balled his fists, his jaw clenched so hard that I could see the muscle in his cheek twitch.   _"I smell his come on you."_

I felt a jolt of confused shock go through me, then realization.  I groaned and put my hands over my face.  "Well, I can tell you where that came from too, but at this point you probably think I'm making it up."  I moved my hands away and stared him straight in the eyes, trying to be brave despite the withering look he was giving me.  "That girl that lets you in when you come to the office?  He's been screwing her.  In his office, in the conference room, probably on every desk in that building anytime someone goes to lunch.  It's been going on for weeks.  I know he was with her right before the coffee incident because they came into the break room together and she was right behind him straightening her skirt.  So yeah, thanks for grossing me out, but it's highly likely I do have his come on me somewhere, because he touched me - _innocently_ \- while he was helping me back to my office."

Tom's look had softened, but he still looked intensely unhappy.  "I can tell you exactly where it is."  He pointed to my arm where Laing had first touched me in the break room.

"Yeah well that makes sense, that's where he grabbed me to move me away from the broken glass."  I shook my head, feeling suddenly sick to my stomach.  "Ew, I wonder how many times he's had his cock in his hand before he handed me a file or a cup of coffee.  Fuck."  I looked at him, my anger rising as his was abating.  "Would you like to sniff my crotch?  Because I think that might be the definitive way to verify once and for all that he hasn't been anywhere near it."

I sat down, exhausted and exasperated, and he immediately came to me, sitting next to me as he reached for my buttons to open my blouse and inspect my burns.  I let him slip it off my shoulders without argument.

"When that girl lets me in, I always smell him on her," he finally admitted, a bit sheepishly.

"So you know I'm telling the truth."

"Yes."  He lowered his head to my shoulder and kissed my skin.  "I'm sorry, girly.  That's one smell I can't stomach.  Not on you."

I sighed heavily and leaned back on the sofa, closing my eyes and letting him blow lightly on my red, heated skin.  I couldn't bring myself to stay angry with him.

"It's okay.  You're protective of what's yours.  I understand that."

He nuzzled gently into the side of my neck, carefully avoiding the painful red spots.  His voice was barely audible as he whispered, _"Mine."_

 

That night he just held me, refraining from touching me much.  I didn't know if it was his sense of guilt at having distrusted me wrongly - although innocently - or if he was too worried about touching my burns. Even my nightshirt made me hideously uncomfortable and I ended up sleeping naked even though sex wasn't on the agenda.

After we'd settled in and he was curled around me at my side, I heard his voice in the dark, against my hair.

"I could have hurt you."

I turned my face toward him and felt his nose bump against my chin.

"You wouldn't.   _A good alpha will never hurt his female.  He cares for her and keeps her safe."_   I tipped my head down to lay a soft kiss against his forehead.  "You're a good alpha, Tom.  You care for me and keep me safe.  You wouldn't hurt me."

He was quiet for a moment, then I heard him sigh deeply.

"Don't count on that too religiously," he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness and something else that I couldn't define.

We didn't speak any more that night.

 

On Tuesday morning he drove me to the airport and we embarrassed everyone around us, kissing goodbye for so long with my feet in the air behind me that a couple of strangers actually took pictures of us with their cellphones.  I felt myself tearing up when he finally set me back down, keeping his tight embrace around me, hugging and rocking me side to side until it was time for me to go.  I wanted so badly to say something to him that would convey how I felt, but words refused to serve and I ended up just kissing his face over and over, standing on my tiptoes, pulling him down so that I could reach him.

"Be careful, bitch pudding," he finally said with a smile.  "Remember your lessons.  And if you don't call me by eleven every night, I'm calling you and I won't stop until you answer."

"Deal.  Do you know the time difference between here and London?  Because I don't - "

He laughed.  "Baby have you ever heard me speak?  I was _born_ in London.  I know the time difference, don't worry."

I smiled up at him, happy that we were parting in good moods.  Things had been a little shaky between us since the coffee incident.

"Okay.  I'm going to go.  Take care of yourself while I'm gone, I want you rested and in good health and ready to ravage me as soon as I get back."

He gave me his best eyebrows-up face as he surreptitiously slipped his hand up under my coat and gave my breast a gentle squeeze.  "You can count on that, baby girl."  He kissed me one more time and then gave me a playful swat to my backside as I turned to pick up my carry on satchel.  I tried not to look back at him again as I made my way to the gate, but as the boarding agent was checking my pass, I couldn't help myself and turned to see him one last time.  He was looking past me with a look of chill warning on his face, like a wolf standing frozen when it sees its rival, waiting to see if a warning will suffice or if he'll have to fight for his territory.  I looked back over my shoulder and saw Laing standing at the ramp, waiting for me.  He smiled, holding his hand out to take my bag, but his eyes were on Tom.  He tipped his head politely to him as we headed up the ramp together.

I looked back to give Tom one last wave, but he had already turned and walked away.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

Twenty minutes into our flight, my boss came back and sat down next to me.

"Twelve hour flight, Miss Black," he said in his silky baritone, a smile lighting up his blue eyes as he settled in.  "I hope you brought something to read." 

I held up Tom's mythology book and returned the smile.  "I did."

He tipped his head sideways to read the title.  "Norse mythology?  Hmm...you don't strike me as the type to be into fancy fairy tales.  I imagined you as more of a LeCarre reader."  The mildly surprised look on his face was tainted just slightly by a mocking insincerity.  

"I'm halfway through The Night Manager, if that renews your faith in your predictive skills."

"Aha!"  He grinned triumphantly.  "That's my girl."

There it was again.   _My girl._ Why did that make me so uncomfortable?  Was it the inappropriate familiarity of it, or was it the way he _purred_ it, like he was praising me for a particularly good blow job?  Whatever it was, if Tom ever heard him say it there would be bloodshed.

"So what's with the dusty old book?  Is that him?"

I knew by _him_ he meant Tom, and most likely in a derogatory way.  I looked out the window for a moment to gather myself.  I didn't want to give him any opportunity to put himself between us, either physically or with words, not when Tom wasn't here to hold the place himself.

"Yeah, he loves this kind of stuff." 

He smiled indulgently.  "I figured as much - since we've established that you like LeCarre."

I got the distinctly unsettling feeling that he was trying to emotionally separate me from Tom, putting our differences - even just this small one - in front of me with the intent of forcing me to see and acknowledge them.   I decided to dig my heels in and rubbed the worn cover like it was something precious to me, hoping Laing would read my body language and accept the fact that I wasn't going to be lured into letting him belittle my mate.

"It's actually very interesting...and entertaining," I said, opening the book again so that I wouldn't have to look at him.

"Yes it is.  I prefer the Greeks myself, but if you look closely, the stories are actually the same across all the mythologies.  Even the Japanese legends.  The Norse though...they had a particularly _skewed_ way of interpreting their mythos."

"Skewed?  Don't you mean perverted?"

He laughed.  "Yes, that too."

I glanced at him quickly, trying not to look surprised at his knowledge of mythology.  His eyes moved down to my hand, where I was holding the book open.  I could tell he was focusing on my silver band.

A voice from behind us asked for his attention then, thankfully cutting our conversation short before it could veer off into a new, very potentially unwelcome subject.

"I'll be right there, Simmons."  He rolled his eyes at me, reaching over to put his hand over mine.  Before my brain could kick in enough for me to slide my fingers out from under his, I felt his thumb stroking the band.  "Never take an accountant on a business trip," he said, leaning dangerously close.  He winked, his thumb moving from the ring to the back of my hand.  "Enjoy your book."

 

The first two days in London were nonstop - meetings, negotiations, more meetings, dinners with the client...not a spare moment, going straight from boardroom to bed each night to rest up for the following day.  Laing stayed close by during that time, keeping an eye on me, overseeing my work; I knew he was tutoring me in the skills I would need to advance in the firm at the same time that he was babysitting me through the merger process, and despite my discomfort around him, I was grateful for the professional attention.  I knew he saw potential in me and wanted to give me opportunities; I just hoped any advancement didn't come at a cost to my personal integrity.  Thankfully he kept most of our interactions on a strictly professional level and never let himself slip into a flirty demeanor, with the occasional exception of a hand on my shoulder or his face just a tiny bit too close to mine.  He treated everyone as if he was on familiar terms with them, so I didn't read anything special into these minor indiscretions.  It was just his nature.

On the third morning, he knocked on my hotel room door with a stack of files and a brief of the case notes.  I had just gotten up and had done little more than throw on my robe.

"It's going to be you today, Anja," he said, shouldering his way into the room.  I stood back in dismay as he crossed to my table without being invited in and started sorting files, extracting papers and arranging notes.  I pulled my robe shut tightly around me and just stared at him from next to the still-open door.

"What do you mean, all me today?"

He looked up, his eyes dropping to where I was clutching the robe shut at my neck.  "Corporate wants to hear more from you.  They've been impressed with your contributions to the negotiations so far and I let them know you're responsible for us even being here.  It's time for you to step up and earn your keep, kiddo.  Your moment to shine."

I shook my head, my mouth dropping open in protest.  "I don't think - "

He cut me off before I could tell him I wasn't prepared for this.  "Come over here, I'm going to show you what you need to do."  He was sorting papers again, his attention fully focused on the task.  When I didn't move, he shot me an impatient look.  "Come here, Anja.  I'm going to brief you and then it's in your hands."  He pulled the chair out and pointed to it.  "Sit."

Something in me bristled harshly at being ordered like that by him; the only person allowed to boss me that way was Tom, and Laing most definitely wasn't him.  But I swallowed my pride and let the door fall shut, going to the table and sitting, but scooting the chair further around the other side and away from him.  He didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he didn't let on.

An hour later he closed the file in his hands and dropped it on the table.  He looked at me, and I could tell he hadn't slept much the previous night - whether he'd been working on the files or he'd snagged a stewardess in the lobby for an allnighter - or most likely, both - I had no idea and I really didn't want to know.  He would pull himself together and be impressive and intimidating the second we entered the boardroom until the moment we left it, and that was what he was going to expect of me as well.  But I had the advantage of having had a good sleep, after calling Tom and letting him talk me through a couple of particularly relaxing orgasms. I hadn't showered yet and wondered briefly if Laing could smell it on me.

His expression was all business as he appraised my reaction to the news he'd just given me.  I was going to be presenting the negotiations today in behalf of our firm.  He was entrusting the responsibility to me on full faith that I could do it.

His eyes were silently asking me if he was right in his assumption.

I nodded, standing and going to the door, opening it to let him know it was time for him to go.

"No worries, Mr Laing," I assured him as he joined me at the door, his hand lingering for a moment on my elbow.  "I'll make you proud."

He smiled and leaned in close; for a moment I thought he was going to try to kiss me, but he stopped just inches from my lips and whispered, _"Good girl."_

 

At ten o'clock that night there was a knock at my door, but this time I was still dressed, having just returned from the day's proceedings not more than an hour ago.  I opened it just far enough to see who was standing in the hallway - Laing, holding up a bottle of champagne so that I could see it through the crack.

"Have a drink with me, Miss Black.  Celebrate.  You earned it."

I shook my head, sighing.  "No, thank you, really - I'm going to stay in and watch some TV and go to bed, I'm really tired."

He frowned, wiggling the bottle level with my face.  "Please?  Just one glass.  It's Bolly."  When I didn't respond, he tried a different tack, shifting to praise.  "You closed the proceedings, Anja.  We're going home two days early with a nice lucrative contract because of you - you deserve a glass of bubbly."

I stood my ground, giving him an appreciative smile from this side of the protective door chain.  "I'm not letting you in here Mr Laing."

"Okay then, come to my room."

"Even less likely to happen."

He wasn't going to be dissuaded.  "Then let's go to the lounge.  Public place, no beds."  He wiggled his eyebrows in a pleading puppy kind of way.  "Please?"

I sighed again, then reluctantly slid the chain lock and stepped out into the hall.

"Just one.  In the lounge."

 

We sat on one of the plush leather sofas in the lounge and he poured us each a glass from the big black bottle, handing one to me, watching with a sparkle in his eyes as I took a sip.  It was delicious but I knew my limits - if he talked me into having more than one glass there would be trouble.  I sipped slowly and then set my glass down.

"I've been wanting to ask you about this."  He reached over and took my hand, raising it between us, his eyes falling to the wide silver band tightly hugging my thumb.  "Is this him?"

There it was again.   _Him._ He seemed unwilling to speak Tom's name for some reason.

"Yes."  His eyes came up to mine and locked there, holding me in a steady stare that instantly unnerved me.  The only way to keep myself from reacting to him in any way that could be misinterpreted was to just start talking.  "It's a...I guess you'd call it a claim.  I'm not sure what the actual name for it is."

He sat back, releasing my hand.  "So he's collared you.'

My head snapped up in shock before I could stop myself.  "Well...yes."  Since he was obviously familiar with the terms, I decided to just tell him the rest - it certainly couldn't hurt to let him know without any doubt that I was not on the market.  "We're mated."

He nodded, his lips pursed, his eyes directed to the basket of fruit on the low table in front of us.  After a moment he returned his gaze to me and the look in his eyes was of genuine interest, the way he looked in the boardroom when he was deep into negotiations.

"Like wolves."

I tried not to laugh.  "Yeah, like that."

"Did you know wolves mate for life?"

"Yep."

He swirled his glass, looking at me from the corners of his eyes.  "And you've made that commitment to him?"

"Yes."

"And he to you?"

"Yes."

"And there's nothing anyone could do to change your mind...?"

I shook my head decisively, letting him know the topic wasn't even on the table for discussion.  "Absolutely not."

He leaned back, resting his arms over the back of the sofa, staring at me for a long moment before raising his eyebrows and giving me a tip of his head in acknowledgement.

"Good for you.  I admire that kind of dedication."

I tried to hide my shock at his sudden willingness to quit the chase.  It had never been much of a secret that he was in an unhurried pursuit of me, but now, to see his expression and attitude toward me change so drastically with just that little nod of his head...I wasn't sure if I should trust that it wasn't just an act to catch me off guard.  He leaned forward to pour himself another glass of champagne and held it up in a cheers position before taking a drink.  "I'd offer you another glass but I promised you just the one."

I smiled, a rush of relief flooding over me.  He seemed sincere, and not pressuring me to drink more was a good sign of fair intent.

"Yep, just one.  I'm a candyass, they'd be wheeling me back to my room on a luggage trolley if I don't stop right now."

"Fair enough."  He leaned in conspiratorially and motioned with his head toward the accounts guy, who was sitting across from us reading a newspaper.  "Watch out for Simmons there, he wants in your pants."

I burst out laughing, slapping my hand over my mouth to shush myself as heads turned to look at us, including Simmons.  "Oh wow, isn't he like seventy?"

Laing giggled a bit, a type of laugh that I'd never heard from him before.  "Hey, don't discount the old guys, sometimes they're more passionate than the rest of us.  My dad is seventy-four and I have a twelve year old brother."

I gave him a scandalized look.  "That's just weird.  Not weird that your dad is still getting it at seventy four - weird that you have a twelve year old brother."  I looked at him, sizing him up.  "Or any brother at all for that matter."

He gave me his best _ouch_ face.  "What, you can't imagine me with family?"

"Do sharks have families?"

He chuckled, raising his glass to me in salute.  "You're going to go far, Miss Black."

 _Yeah,_ I thought... _I've already gone five thousand miles further than I want to be_.  I sighed, missing Tom so much it hurt - between my legs and elsewhere.  I tried to keep a straight face so that Laing wouldn't ask me what was wrong.  His own expression suddenly went very serious as he sat forward to look me closely in the eyes.  "Speaking of which, these guys are trying to headhunt you."

"What?  Seriously?"

He nodded, sitting back again, his knees wide, his hands clasped behind his head.  All gestures of relaxation, sincerity.  He wasn't trying to bed me anymore.  He was talking to me as an associate.

"As much as I would hate to lose my star up and comer, this would be a marvelous opportunity for you Anja.  Big company like this, as impressed as they were with you, I don't think you'd be starting out in the mail room."

I shook my head, not wanting to even try to absorb what he'd just said.  Instead, I looked down.  "You don't have on any shoes."

Laing looked down at his sock-clad feet and laughed a little.  "I wasn't planning on coming downstairs."

"You were planning on bedding me, weren't you."

He just looked at me, his head tilted slightly to one side, like he was analyzing me.  It made me uncomfortable and I fidgeted in my chair.  Before he could answer, I stood up and put my glass on the table again.

"I'm going to go back upstairs now."

He looked up at me but made no move to stop me.  "Must you leave so soon?"

"Yep - I'm a little bit tipsy from just that one glass and I really don't want to wake up in bed next to you tomorrow morning."

He smiled, but it wasn't the wicked grin I was used to seeing from him.  "We've already established that that isn't going to happen."

"Yes, we have."

He stood and took my hand, pulling it to his lips for a soft little kiss.  "Thank you for being so impressive today, Anja.  You made us all look good."

I slowly pulled my hand away, rebuffing his one last gentle attempt at seduction.

"Tom will be expecting me to call him soon.  Goodnight, Mr Laing.  Thanks for the drink."

I turned and walked away, waiting until I'd reached the elevator before I glanced back toward the lounge again.  Laing was still sitting on the sofa, his eyes trained on me over the rim of his glass, but it wasn't a lustful stare - he was motioning with his head toward the older man that had been sitting near us.  I followed the nod of his head and saw Simmons the accountant staring at me, pure naked lustful desire etched all over his face.

When I looked back again, Laing was laughing behind his glass.

 

I heard my phone ringing before I got the door to my room unlocked.  I'd forgotten to grab it on my way out; I shot a quick look at the clock as I ran for it and nearly panicked when I saw that it was 11:17.  Tom expected me to call at 11:00, without fail, or he would call me.

I snatched the phone up and hit the answer button without even looking to see if it was him.  Of course it was.  

"How are you, girly?"

I exhaled with relief when I heard there was no impatience in his voice.  He just sounded sleepy.

"I'm good...it's good to hear your voice."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great.  Why?"  I sat down on the edge of the bed, my heart suddenly feeling all soft and warm from that sleepy inflection in his voice.  "You sound tired and kinda worried."

"I just got the feeling that something was wrong.  Maybe not wrong...just not quite right."

"No, everything is okay.  What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Just a feeling."  He sounded like he was waiting for me to tell him something, but I had nothing to tell.  I didn't want him to know I'd missed our call time because I was sharing champagne with Laing - that just had bad idea written all over it.  I decided changing the subject might be my wisest move.

"I'll be back in a couple of days and I'm going to expect you to feed me as soon as I get there.  All these corporate dinners are killing me.  Nobody knows how to microwave anything properly."

"I've got mad skills in the microwaving category."

"Yes, you do."

There was a long pause.  "Will you be able to sleep tonight, girl?"

"I doubt it.  Not till the TV bores me into unconsciousness, probably somewhere around 3 a.m."

"Then talk to me."

I felt a smile tugging at my mouth and knew the same grin was coming across his.  "Are you lonely, baby?"

He sighed.  "I am."

"You want me to help you get to sleep?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Any particular reason you're napping at this hour?  Haven't you been sleeping since I've been gone?"

"Not really, no.  It's amazing the extent to which one becomes dependent on the presence of another being in their bed, once they get used to them being there."

"You've been reading psychology textbooks again."

"Busted."

"Well, lay down sweetie, lets rock each other to sleep."

He sighed, a soft, blissful sound with just enough of his voice mixed into it to set my nether region quivering.

"Yes ma'am, boss lady."

 

That night I had the dream again.  I hadn't had it in so long that I'd forgotten about it, but there it was, in all its throat ripping glory.  Darkness and shadow, blood and screams, Tom turning to glare at me through flame red eyes as he snarled  _I can smell him on you...I can see I'm going to have to remind you who you belong to._ I woke up without him, alone in my hotel room, sobbing with terror and shockingly, embarrassingly  _disturbingly_ aroused.  

At least I wasn't with Laing.

I lay there for a while, thinking about the dream, trying to figure out why I was having it again after so long.  All I could think was that it was because Tom wasn't with me.  I had been sleeping at his place, in his bed, with him next to me; now that I thought about it, I'd never had the full dream when he was with me.  It must have been his presence that was keeping it away.

And now his absence had brought it back.

I got up and staggered to the bathroom, tired as if I hadn't slept at all, and drew myself a glass of water to wet my suddenly dry throat.  Had I been screaming?  No one was knocking and the front desk hadn't called to inquire about noise, so I must not have.  I looked in the mirror and laughed at myself, all bedraggled and bedheaded.

I suddenly remembered Tom's words, the night he'd smelled Laing on me.

_I could have hurt you._

_You're a good alpha, Tom.  You wouldn't hurt me._

_Don't count on that too religiously._

In the dream it was always him emerging from the shadows, baring his fangs, giving me just enough warning to take one step back before he was on me.  I leaned on the sink and realized my heart was racing.  

Was the dream a warning?

Was it _his_ way of warning me...?

 

I jumped, startled, looking around blankly for a moment before I realized the sound coming from the far side of the room was my cellphone.  I considered letting it go to voicemail, hoping I wouldn't check messages tomorrow to hear a drunken plea from Laing for me to join him in his room.  After our conversation earlier, I wasn't counting on that happening, but one never knows once a bottle of champagne gets involved.

I picked it up.  It was Tom's number on the display.

"Tom!  God I'm so glad you called again - "

"Are you okay Anja?"

"What?  Yeah, I'm fine.  Is something wrong?  Are you okay?"

"What happened?"

"Huh?"

_"Tell me what happened."_

"Nothing...nothing happened.  I was asleep, I'm only up because I had a dream and I got up to get some water."

"Are you alone?"

"What?  Of course I'm alone.  What's the matter with you?  Why are you calling like this at - "  I looked at the bedside alarm clock  " - at 3:47 in the morning?"

"It's not 3:47 in the morning here, it's 7:47 in the evening and I want to know why I just got a really bad feeling that something was wrong with you."  There was quiet for a moment and I knew what his next words were going to be before he said them.  "Where is Laing?"

"In his room asleep, I'm assuming.  The last time I saw him he was finishing a bottle of Bollinger by himself in the lounge.  That was right before you called me at bedtime."

"And nothing happened with him?"

"No, nothing.  I had one glass to celebrate and then I came back upstairs and talked to you.  The only untoward thing that happened was I found out Simmons fancies me."

"Simmons?  Isn't he seventy?"

"Yeah.  Kinda gives you a shudder, doesn't it."

There was a pause for a moment.

"Tell me about your dream."

I sighed, not really wanting to get into this.  I was tired and wanted to go back to sleep, but I knew he would worry unless I answered all his questions.

"It was that old one, the same one.  That whole wolf thing, you ripping somebody's throat out for putting their scent on me."  I didn't continue.  I'd never told him about the rest of the dream, about how he turned and attacked me every time after murdering whoever else had been there.  About how my screams were drowned out by his snarling and then the gutteral howling as he violently reclaimed what was his.

"Was it different in any way this time?"

"No, same.  Wait, you sensed something was happening with me?  How long ago?"

"Right before I called."

"So you're saying you sensed my dream?"

He ignored my question as if I should already know the answer.  "Are you sure there was nothing different about it this time?"

"No, it was exactly the same."

He sighed.  "Okay, well...good."  There was something relieved in his words and I didn't understand why it should matter, but I didn't ask him to explain.  I started to climb back into bed and dropped my phone while I was getting under the covers.  When I picked it up I could hear pub noise in the background.  

"You still there?"

"Yeah.  Are you getting into bed?"

"Yes."  I settled in, pulling the covers up.  I hated the feel of this bed, despite its plush comfort.  It wasn't Tom's bed, I couldn't smell him on the sheets or pillows, and he wasn't in it with me.  "Want to put me back to sleep?"

"Absolutely.  Give me a minute."

I heard movement and then the pub noise diminished.  "What are you doing?"

"Locking the door."

I shivered, almost squealing with glee knowing what he was going to do, even though it had only been a couple of hours since the last time we'd done this.  It was funny how just the sound of his voice, so smooth and deep and commanding, could excite and arouse me so completely.  I waited for him to settle again, scooting down in the bed so that I was comfortable.

When his voice came through the phone again the anticipation was almost too much for me.

"Are you lying down?"

"Yes."

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yes."

"Are your fingers in your puss?"

"No."

"Then get them there, we don't have all night girly."

In that moment, the absolute most inopportune moment possible, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't told him my news earlier.

"Oh my god Tom, I forgot!"

"Forgot what?"

"I handled the negotiations today and we closed the deal.  I'm coming home early!  We'll be leaving tomorrow night after we do the final wrap-up.  And I think I might be getting a promotion."

I could almost hear his proud smile through the phone.  "That's awesome, baby.  I'm proud of you girl."

Hearing him say that made me feel all warm inside and I snuggled down further under the covers.  "I miss you so much.  I can't wait to get home."

"I miss you too, girl.  I'm really happy things have gone well for you.  Even happier that you're coming home early."

My face felt like it was going to break from smiling.  His approval meant everything to me, his pride in me a completely fulfilling thing.  I wanted so badly to feel his arms around me, hugging me tight, but for one more night his voice would have to do.  One more night and then I'd be on my way home to him.

"Now, lets get those fingers into that puss, shall we?"

 

A little less than two days later I was home, back on familiar ground, back with Tom, although I had yet to see him.  We were still at the airport, waiting on the company car to pick us up.  

"Can't I just get a cab and go on?" I asked Laing.  I knew it was obvious I was exhausted and anxious to get home, and he gave me a gentle smile, like one you'd give a restless child that can't settle down for a nap after an exciting afternoon.  He leaned over and took my bag from my hand.  

"You can if you want to, but I highly recommend waiting for the car.  Stretch limo, heated leather seats, space to lay down and take a nap if you want.  I'm sure Simmons here wouldn't mind lending you the use of his lap as a pillow."

I shot him a look and reached to take my bag back, checking behind us to see if Simmons had heard him.  Fortunately he was a little hard of hearing and the noise of the airport lobby had done me a favor.  I was just about to say something back to Laing when I saw his eyes dart past my left shoulder.  By the way his pupils instantly dilated, I knew it had to be Tom.

"Hello bitch pudding."

I spun around and without even thinking ran straight into his arms, hitching up on my tiptoes to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him.  He wrapped his arms around my back and lifted me up, holding me against his body as the messy unstructured first kiss quickly deepened into something usually reserved for the sappiest of romance movies.  We inhaled each other, clinging so tightly, so desperately to each other that we must have looked like we'd been separated for years.  It almost felt that way and I whimpered against his ear, so happy to feel him again.

When he finally put me down we stood apart briefly, looking at each other.

"Wow.  Why did that happen?"

"I dunno, but I'm not against it happening again."

I laughed and he hauled me up in his arms again, spinning me around this time. _"Ohh, I love you baby,"_ I heard him sigh against my ear, his voice almost anguished under its heavy veil of relief.  I wasn't sure he'd intended for me to hear it at all, it was so quiet.  Something in me choked up and I was unable to breathe for a moment, the realization of what he'd said slowly setting in.

Had he just said he loved me?

I opened my eyes and over his shoulder I could see Laing, nodding slowly, a small smile on his face.  I couldn't read the emotion behind it, but through my giddy haze I thought I was looking at resignation tinged with a bit of good sportsmanship.  He tipped his head to me as he took Simmons' bag and shouldered it, leading the old guy and the other two attorneys toward the main doors where I could see a long black limo had just pulled up.  

After an almost endless, lung-crushing hug, Tom finally put me down again and bent to put his head against mine. 

"I'm afraid I've got something really horrible to tell you, bitch pudding."

"What's that."

"I am hopelessly, hideously in love with you."

"Oh gosh - that _is_ horrible, especially since I can't stand you."  I looked up at him from the side of my eyes.  "So what do we do now?"

He grinned and kissed my forehead, his hands rubbing up and down on my arms.  "I take you home and we go to bed for two days."

I groaned, sliding my own hands up under his coat to give him a quick grope.  "You have no idea how good that sounds.  Did you drive, or should I flag Laing down in his shameless luxurymobile before he leaves? I'm sure he'd give us a ride."  I nodded toward the pick up lane outside where the attorneys were putting their bags in the trunk of the limousine.  Tom turned and looked, then frowned as he growled and gave my backside a solid swat.

"Don't make me spank you, girly.  You know you won't like it."

 _I beg to differ,_ I thought as he slipped a long arm around me and picked up my bag, holding me close to him as he walked me out of the airport past Laing's limo.  I could feel the electrically charged tension in the air as the two alphas shared space for a moment, but I didn't care to look and see if they locked eyes or exchanged warning looks.  It didn't matter anymore.  Laing had finally respected Tom's claim, there was no more need to worry about the two of them ripping each other's throats out over me.  But it left something unexplained in the back of my mind, something deeply unsettling that kept poking at my nerves until I couldn't ignore it anymore.  If Laing was no longer a threat, why did I have the dream again?  Who was the other person in the nightmare, the person in shadows on the ground with their blood spilled all around them and dripping from Tom's fangs?

"Come on baby, lets cross."  Tom took my hand and led me across the street toward parking, pulling me up close to him again as we headed for his car.  I tugged at his arm and he turned to look at me.  His long black hair was blowing in the chilly breeze and his cheeks were rosy from the cold air, but he looked happy, genuinely at peace.  He gave me a questioning look.

"I love you too, you know," I said over the sound of the wind and the honking traffic.  He grinned and pulled my hand up to his face, his fingers laced through mine.

"Well imagine that.  You can't stand me, but you love me."  He gave me a smug smirk.  "I told you, didn't I?"

"Maybe I just like having a pet werewolf."

He pressed his face against my head, burying his nose and mouth in my hair.  I knew he was sniffing me, filling his lungs with my scent again after so long without it.

"We do tend to make very loyal guardians," he agreed.  

 

_To be continued..._

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

True to his word, Tom kept me in his bed for the better part of the following two days.  He was so fervent and anxious in his lovemaking that at first I was amused, reminding him we'd only been apart for a few days, but as he was dragging his face across my belly and I felt the sharp inhale of his breath mixed with the scratchy sandpaper rub of his morning stubble, it slowly dawned on me that his anxiety was being caused by all the strange smells on me.  The four men that had traveled with me, the eight men and six women who were part of the proceedings in London, the close proximity of everyone on the flight, the strange city and all the strangers that came with it. He reminded me of one of those curious dogs that freaks out when you come into their home, sniffing your hand intently, identifying all the places you've been and all the things you've done with their nose pressed against your palm until they finally calm down enough to let you pass.  My amusement promptly turned to sadness; I felt sorry for him, trying to process everything, or perhaps he was trying to ignore it and just concentrate on me.  Either way, it had to be distracting for him.

"Would you like me to take another shower?  Eventually it'll all come off..."

He looked up from licking my hipbone and shook his head.  "It's okay.  They're fading.  You were touched by a lot of people, they all left a trace."

"Yeah.  Airplane, airport, boardroom, breakroom, restaurant, ladies room...I never really noticed how much people touch each other in a typical day, but once you start counting, it gets a little ridiculous.  I found myself trying to avoid it but you just can't."

"Don't try.  It's a basic human need, to touch other humans.  I wouldn't deprive you of that just to give my nose a break."  His hand traveled past my hip and kept going, slowly, stopping only once it had reached my soft underside.  "So long as no one leaves their scent on you _here."_

His finger teased me for a moment, gliding lightly from sensitive spot to sensitive spot, dipping inside for just a moment before starting its maddeningly slow tease again.  His head was laying on my stomach and I reached down to stroke his hair, sighing with a mixture of contentment and quickly building arousal.

"Why do you have such a good sense of smell?  Were you born this way?"

"I don't know," he answered quietly.  "I guess so."  He kept stroking me lazily, his deep voice rumbling through my lower body as he spoke.  "It used to bother me, when I was a kid...twenty other kids in the classroom at school and I could tell you what each one of them ate for breakfast, I knew the teacher had had a shag that morning in the teachers lounge with the basketball coach, I knew the kid three rows over had an uncle that smoked weed.  It made me a little crazy sometimes."  I kept stroking his hair but didn't say anything, eager to hear more about his childhood, afraid that if I spoke he would lose his willingness to talk about it.  "My mum actually took me to the doctor once about it.  Acute Hyperosmia, they called it. Highly elevated, acutely heightened sense of smell.  Nothing to be done about it, so I just went with it." He looked up and gave me a wicked, twisted little smile.  "I learned how to use it to my advantage."

I ignored his taunt.  This was just too interesting.  "Do you smell fear?  Danger, that kind of stuff?"

"In so much as it's conveyed through a person's pheromones, sweat, hormones released during high stress situations, yes.  People inherently sense certain things in their environment, like when someone is nervous.  I can sniff a room and know what the general situation is, whether everyone is happy, scared, whatever.  It's just a matter of putting two and two together after that."

"Twice you've known I was in trouble outside the pub with Eric.  How do you explain that when you were inside the building when it happened?"

He didn't answer for a long time.  He finally rubbed his cheek against my stomach and I shivered at the tickly abrasion of his whiskers.  "That one's easy.  I looked out the window."

I thumped the top of his head with my fingers.  "You did not.  If that was all there was to it someone else would have done the same, the place was full both nights.  You knew something was going on.   _And_ you knew I was upset while I was five thousand miles away, just minutes after I had a nightmare.  You didn't smell my freakout hormones from an entire continent away."

He snickered and muttered "Freakout hormones" as he turned his face and started deliberately giving me whisker burn on my stomach.  I squirmed, squealing and trying to writhe away from him, but he held me still with his big hands on my hips.  "And don't forget that I owe you for suggesting that I get into a limo with that motherfucker Laing."

"Tom!  Good grief!  Don't you think _motherfucker_ is a bit harsh?  I mean, his _dad_ maybe..."  I started giggling, remembering the conversation.  "God, his dad is 74 and Laing's got a twelve year old brother, isn't that hilarious?"

He raised his head and gave me a warning look.  "What makes you think I want to hear about his family life?"

"And that's another thing that I don't get - you can say his name, but he can't say yours.  He calls you 'him'.  What's that all about?"

"I'm warning you."

I suddenly noticed a distinct chill in the room, like I'd felt when Tom and Laing were in the same space at the airport - but this time it was different, just slightly.  This time it felt like danger, that unfocused sensation you get when you're pretty sure someone is about to jump out at you, but you aren't sure if they're in the closet or behind the kitchen door.  

"I'm sorry - I just - "

He shot one long arm up and slapped his hand over my mouth, silencing me.  "Not another word," he hissed, his voice deep and low.   _"Not. One. Word."_

I nodded my obedience, grimacing as his strong fingers dug into my cheeks.  He wasn't playing.  The chill in the air became more intense and I felt myself starting to sweat in all the places he was touching me; his body on mine was suddenly suffocating, but I didn't want to breathe, I just wanted to be like this, under him, skin to skin and slightly scared.

He removed his hand from my mouth and slid his thumb across my lips, hard, forcing them apart and pushing it in to press against my tongue.  I let him, welcoming the intrusion because it meant something of him was inside me, and that was what I was craving.  Him inside me.

He crept slowly up my body until his face was next to mine, his lips pressing into my temple and his hot breath tickling my hairline.  "Laing _is_ a motherfucker, and he can't say my name because _he knows I'll know it."_

I nodded, even though it didn't make any sense to me.  I knew better than to ask for an explanation - his tone clearly meant I was to listen, not to ask questions.  If he wanted to elaborate later he would.  

"And I want you to stop saying his name to me.  He and I don't need to have our buttons pushed.  Things could get...ugly."

I nodded again.  I hadn't meant to push any buttons, especially not Tom's.  But I kept my mouth shut and just agreed.  His hand was sliding up over my breast and squeezing it almost uncomfortably hard, drawing a deep groan from my throat that was mixed with a little gasp of discomfort.  He had warned me, now I had the unsettlingly arousing feeling that he was going to back up his words with actions.

He was stiff and heavy against my thigh and I spread my legs, giving him permission to do whatever he wanted - not that he needed my permission, as it had been granted long ago.  But his mood was unclear and I sensed that my complete submission would keep me out of trouble if I made sure he felt it.  His heavy groan told me that he did.

"I had to let you go to England with that bastard," he whispered harshly, with a bitter edge to his voice.  "...sat here wondering the whole time if he was _looking_ at you, if he was _touching_ you, if he was _fucking_ you, if he was _hurting_ you...wondering if you would tell me if he did."  He was kissing his way now down my chest slowly as he spoke, licking and biting my skin as he worked his way to my belly.  He raised his head from between my ribcage and the curve of my waist and looked at me, his eyes burning. "Would you?"

"Of course I would," I answered without hesitation.  "But you know I was prepared, you trained me yourself."

"You're a little girl, Anja.  He's a foot taller than you and outweighs you by eighty pounds.  It would be exactly like trying to fight me off, and how successful have you ever been at that?"

"I got in a couple of good hits."

"Good hits," he sneered.  "You think a crack to the collarbone is going to stop a man that's serious about having his way with you?"

I pushed my legs shut, nudging his thigh out from between them.

"We had this conversation before I left.  Why are we having it again now?"  I reached down and ran my nails lightly over his cheekbone to remind him of the deep scratches that were still healing there.  "I made it there and back without any incident and the man told me he admires my dedication to being your mate.  He's given up the chase, Tom.  Let it go."

I knew I was in trouble by the way his eyes shifted, turning from turquoise to black as his pupils dilated.  But I stood my ground and sat up, pushing him away.  "Stop it or I'm going home."

He seemed a little bit surprised that I was standing up to him.  I watched as his eyes shifted again, regaining their color, the angry scowl softening.  I reached out and pushed my finger against the deep lines between his eyebrows.  "Those are going to become permanent if you don't stop making that damn face at me all the time."

He shook his head with a heavy sigh.  "You try my patience, Anja."

"What?  What did I do?"

"You trust the world and everyone in it.  Believe me baby, the world doesn't want to be beautiful for you.  It wants to fuck you in the ass and kick you on its way out."

I stared at him in shock.  "Where did that come from?"  He didn't answer so I took his face in my hands and made him look at me.  "Did something happen while I was gone?"  He kept his eyes averted, refusing to look at me; I kept moving my face in front of his until finally he had no choice but to meet my gaze.  "Tell me what happened, Tom.  Something's wrong with you."

He stared into my eyes for a long time, then finally shook his head a little and looked down.  I lifted his chin to make him look up again and he obeyed.  When he finally spoke, his voice was much quieter and had an unmistakable air of sadness to it.

"Maybe one day," was all he said.

 

When I returned to work after my well-earned few days off, Laing seemed slightly uncomfortable around me.  I left him alone, resuming my duties and taking on the new ones that he was beginning to entrust me with, minding my own business until my third day back when he finally came into my office and asked if I had a minute.

"Sure, come on in."  I closed the folder I was working on and sat back, looking at him expectantly.  He was holding a thick file in one hand, tapping it against the palm of his other hand, looking distinctly nervous. This was new.  "What can I help you with?"

He put the file down on my desk and stepped back, pushing his hands deep into his pockets.  The look on his face was almost grim.

"I think you might want to have a look at this."

"What is it?"

He sat down on the sofa and crossed his legs at the knee, bringing his gaze back to me as he waited for me to look at the file.  I opened the cover and froze.

Tom.  

_On a missing child poster._

"Oh my god."

I closed it and pushed it away from me, to the edge of the desk, shaking my head.

"That's his past.  It's not any of my business."

"Isn't it?  You say you're mated to him for life.  Shouldn't you know something about him?"

"Have you read it?"

"I have."

"Then sum it up for me."

He drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, frowning at me.  "Well, it seems he was a runaway, which of course isn't a crime, especially if you're running away from an abusive home - and according to the police and CPS reports, that was the case."  He leaned back and draped his arms over the back of the sofa.  "Spunky kid, he made it all the way across the United States on his own, looking for his sister that had been removed from the home.  Multiple foster homes for both of them prior to that.  He ends up here, not quite sure how he made it on his own, being so young...and now here he is, all grown up, living quietly,  and nobody in his family seems to have ever come looking for him."  He stopped talking and there was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments while his normally stoic expression shifted into something that looked like - pity?

I nodded, looking down at my desk.  "I knew all that."

"Did you also know he has a child?"

My head jerked up in shock.  The look on Laing's face was passive, almost blank - no malice, no spite.  He wasn't trying to do damage here - he was stating fact as dispassionately as he would quote stock prices over the phone.

"A child?"

He sat forward, pushing the file back toward me again.  "You really should take a look at that, Anja."

My hands were shaking as I opened the folder.  That picture of Tom was heartbreaking - the sweet expression, the wide, happy grin I saw every day, right there on the face of a little boy with huge turquoise eyes and jet black hair.  The word MISSING above his head.  His last known whereabouts.  His height and weight and birthdate and what he was last seen wearing.  A black Slipknot teeshirt and torn jeans.

There was a very old, very worn Slipknot teeshirt wadded up in Tom's top drawer.  I had put it on one morning when I was caught without anything else to wear.

I couldn't look at it anymore and turned the page.

Deeds, official papers, a copy of a will, all in the name of Alicia Olivetti.  Confused, I looked at Laing.

"The file actually isn't about him.  It's Mrs Olivetti's personal papers, collected at the time of her passing in 2006.  It came to us through a Mrs Stephenson, who is the late Mrs Olivetti's mother in law and legal guardian of the child.  These papers were all gathered by her to back the paternity claim - which is why your guy is in there."  He gave me an unwavering look, his steely blue eyes unblinking.  "Mrs Olivetti's daughter is looking for her father. The girl is fourteen.  She's well off - her mother was a woman of means and she made ample provision for the girl before she passed away.  Cara doesn't want or need anything...she just wants to meet her father."

I sat down, a little harder than I meant to.  I felt like I was in shock.

"I'm not trying to imply that he's kept this hidden from you, Anja.  I don't believe he knows about it.  According to Mrs Olivetti's personal papers, she only met him once - "

We both finished the sentence at the same time.  " - in New Mexico."

Laing nodded.  I put my hands over my face, trying to clear my head.  My voice sounded all crackly when I spoke.  "He was fifteen."

"Yes.  She made quite a generous provision for him, as well.  According to the documents she had in her possession, she left him a hefty sum, which was granted to him on his twenty-first birthday."

I was slowly turning pages in the file while he spoke.  After the deeds, the will, the copy of the daughter's birth certificate - which bore the surname Heyworth, Tom's last name - was a photo of the pub and copies of the bank's deed of sale.  I stared at them in confusion, wondering why they would be in this file, until it finally hit me.

"Oh my god.  I can't believe I never noticed."

Laing raised an eyebrow.  "Never noticed what?"

"The pub where he tends bar."  I held up the photo and showed it to him.  "It's called Tommy's.  I just thought it was a coincidence."  I shook my head, about to laugh, trying not to cry.  "All this time we just thought he was the bartender."  I looked at the deed again to double check - sure enough, his name was there.  "He _owns_ the damn place."

Laing stared at me intently for a few moments, then stood up.  "I'm going to leave you to your thoughts, give you time to absorb all this.  And then I want you to go home, Anja.  This is a big shock to you, I'm sure.  But, whatever you do - " He leaned across my desk and took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze,  " - don't judge him harshly for not telling you certain things.  He seems to be a very unassuming young man, I'm certain he meant no harm."  He kissed my hand, then turned and headed for the door.  "He must also be a hell of a natural born lover if Mrs Olivetti left him that much money as thanks for a one night stand."  He cocked his eyebrow.  "Fifteen, eh?  No wonder you're so devoted to him."

 

After he was gone, I sat there, staring at the file.  It was a lot to filter, and my brain wasn't up to the task at the moment.  I picked it up and rifled through it till I found the photo I had skimmed past earlier - the fourteen year old girl, Cara.  Tom's daughter.  There was no denying it...she looked just like him, to the point of being uncanny.  Same big turquoise eyes, same shiny black hair, same fine cheekbones and wide smile.  She was definitely his.

And now I knew about her, and Tom didn't.

I wasn't sure what to do with this information, but I knew it needed to be me that told him.  Not someone from legal sending him a registered letter telling him some woman from his past had put his name on her baby's birth certificate fourteen years ago.  No, it didn't need to be like that.

I closed my eyes and remembered the look on his face when he'd told me about losing his virginity to an older woman in a hotel in New Mexico when he was fifteen, hitchhiking cross country, trying to get to his sister.  The one good memory in a huge horrifying pile of bad ones.  It was obviously a memory he cherished.  I needed to make sure it stayed that way.

 

I sat there for a while longer, thumbing through the file, stopping here and there to read just enough to put all the pieces together.  I did the math on the birth date on the missing poster and laughed a little when I realized Tom was 29 - that put me three years older than him, which made a bit of ironic sense when put into context with the whole losing his cherry to an older woman thing.  I took the poster and the photo of the girl out and laid them side by side on my desk.  They could have been the same person, just different genders.

I was starting to realize there was so little I knew about this man.  

I kept going back to the copy of the deed to the pub.  Why had he never told anyone he owned the place?  Why let us all think he was just the bartender all these years?  Ewan always called him 'boss' - I had assumed it was because Tom had worked there for so long and was in charge of everything.  Apparently Ewan knew though.  And the way he handled everything...the rowdy customers, that group that gave Ewan a hard time, all the inventory and the deliveries early in the mornings...and the fact that nobody ever saw anyone telling Tom what to do...every bit of it screamed _boss_.  But we all just assumed there was an absentee owner somewhere, trusting it all to his hardworking employee.  We didn't know the owner was actually drawing our beers and sitting at the back table with us, laughing at Chris's jokes, ignoring Kady's flirtatious advances, sweeping the floors at closing time.  I shook my head.  That was so like Tom.

I pulled out the birth certificate next and read every line, checking every detail.  The girl was born in Taos in 2001.  In 2001, Tom was sixteen, meaning he'd been fifteen when he was with the girl's mother.  It all added up, numbers-wise.  He'd specifically mentioned this woman to me and the timeframe and location all matched.  Out of curiosity, I checked Mrs Olivetti's birth date.  1963.  She'd been thirty-eight at the time. The fact that she put Tom's last name on the birth certificate even though she never saw him again after that one night was...sweet, and unbearably sad somehow.  I suddenly felt the need to see this woman, and frantically turned every page until I finally found it - a small photo of her that looked like it was copied from her drivers license.  She was pretty.  Obviously well kept.  I wondered what would motivate a well-bred woman of this caliber to pick up a young boy in a bus station and take him to a hotel for the night.  Had she felt sorry for him and wanted to give him a safe, warm place to sleep? Had her intention been to seduce him from the start, or had he been responsible for that?  Being as tall as he was, maybe she thought he was older.  Maybe he had lied so that she wouldn't turn him out when she realized he was a minor.  There were so many possibilities, but the file revealed none of them, only the cold hard facts that made up the surface.  I wanted to know what had gone on below that surface, the feelings and motivations behind that night, the things that only Tom and Alicia could ever tell anyone.  There had to be a heartbreaking story there.  The end results were spread out across my desk, and they made me want to cry.

Since Alicia was gone, any details would have to come from Tom.  He was the only person alive who knew their secrets.

I finally gathered all the papers up and put them neatly back into the file.  I'd made my mind up - I was going to give Tom the file and let him tell me what he chose to tell me.  His secrets were his own, if he wanted to share them with me I would eagerly accept.  If not, I would love him anyway and let him keep them.  This was his past, not mine.  I had no right to judge him on any of it, nor demand that he reveal anything.  He'd been a kid, probably scared, no doubt hungry, most likely cold and lonely very far from anyone that knew him and with absolutely no place in the world that he called home.  Anybody would have done the same.  

I pushed the call button on my desk phone and waited for my assistant to answer.

"Yes Miss Black?"

"I'm going home, Samantha.  I need you to wrap up the research on the Farris files."

"Yes ma'am."

I sighed, a headache suddenly starting to throb in my temples.  "Thanks.  Leave it on my desk when you're done and then go on home.  See you in the morning."

 

I hung my coat next to the door at Tom's apartment and smiled when he yelled hello to me from the kitchen.  I had texted him on my way home and asked if he could leave the pub early and spend some time with me.  He sent a text back almost immediately - "Yes ma'am, I'll be there waiting."

Now I wasn't sure how to proceed.  He stuck his head through the doorway and grinned at me.

"Hey baby.  Everything okay?"

He came out and scooped me up in a big hug, squeezing the breath out of me as he picked me up and kissed me.  When he put me down to go turn down the stereo, I decided my best bet would be to just charge headlong into it before he got a chance to engage me in anything that might make me change my mind about this.  When he turned back to me, I started talking.

"Tom...a file came across my desk today on someone that you know."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah.  A Mrs Olivetti."  I waited for the recognition that I knew would light up his face, and wasn't disappointed.  He instantly broke into that same sweetly sentimental smile he'd had when he first told me about her.  But it quickly turned to confusion when he realized, at the same time that I did, that I shouldn't know her name.  He'd never told it to me.

"How do you know who that is?"

"Because your picture was in the file.  And your name."

He looked genuinely confused, tilting his head questioningly as he looked at me.  "Why is my picture and name in her file?  What's the file about?  She's been dead for years."

I hesitated for a moment.  "Her daughter is looking for her father."

"She had a daughter?  I didn't know that."  He smiled, cocking an eyebrow.  "But honestly the only thing I really do know about her is her name."

I didn't know how else to do this, so I just handed him the file.  He took it hesitantly, confused, looking at me questioningly before opening it.  He was quiet for a moment as he looked at the first page.

"Are these her personal papers?"

I nodded.  He broke into a wide grin.  "She kept it."

"Kept what?"

He turned the file around to show me.  The missing child poster.  "I gave her this that night.  It was all I had on me.  I grabbed it off the wall of a post office I'd spent the night in."  He laughed.  "I was twelve in this picture, I don't know why they used it, I mean I was fifteen when I left.  Probably because it was the last photo I ever smiled in and heaven forbid anyone should get the impression we weren't a happy family unit."

So she _had_ known how old he was.  She'd also known he was a runaway and that people were looking for him.  What would make a grown woman do something like that?

Tom wasn't making the connection yet, but I didn't want to rush him.  He thumbed through a few papers and then stopped, pulling out the birth certificate and the other photo.  His eyes went from one to the other, slowly working it out.  It took a minute, but finally his face showed comprehension.

"No fucking way..."

He stared at the picture of the girl for a long time, then looked at me.  There were tears in his eyes.

"She's mine?"

I nodded.  There wasn't anything for me to say so I didn't even try.  His eyes went back to the picture and he slowly sat down.  The file had fallen to the floor and papers were scattered around his feet, but it didn't matter.  I would pick them up later.

He put his hand over his mouth and I decided this was where I should leave; I quietly stood and headed for the door, trying not to catch his attention, but before I could get my purse from the coat rack his voice stopped me.

"Don't go, Anja.  I want you here with me.  Please."

I turned and looked at him.  The tears that had been glistening in his eyes a few moments ago had fallen, streaking his cheeks.  

"Are you sure?"

"Yes.  Please don't go.  I need you."

I nodded my approval and came back to sit beside him, not touching him, just waiting for some sign from him to tell me what he needed from me.  He didn't say anything for a long time, then finally, in a voice that didn't even sound like him, he asked me if I'd met her.

"No, she lives in New Mexico.  They found your current location through the deed to the pub."  I said it before I realized it and flinched, not sure if his ownership of the pub was something he'd wanted me to know about.  But he didn't react, just nodded slightly.

"The week I turned twenty one I got a letter from her attorney.  That was how I found out she'd died."  His voice broke a little, wavering slightly. "I had told her where I was going, so she must have hired someone to find me so they could serve me the letter.  She left me some money and a note telling me to buy something that would give me a sense of belonging somewhere.  So I bought the pub."  He lowered his head and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.  "They didn't say anything about a child."

"No, they wouldn't have.  She would have only been six at the time."

Hesitantly, I reached up and put my hand on his back; when he didn't do anything to indicate he didn't want it there, I rubbed him gently, leaning in closer so there was physical contact between us.  He sighed and I felt his body relax a bit as he leaned into me in return.

"I don't know what to do."  He looked at me, confusion in his eyes.  "What am I supposed to do?"

He sounded lost and I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close.

"Sleep on it.  Tomorrow you'll know."

He nodded, staring down at the picture in his hands.  His eyes moved to the floor where the papers were scattered.  "I'm sorry, I..."  He started to lean over to pick them up but I stopped him.  

"I'll do that, sweetheart.  Why don't you go take your shower and get ready for bed."  I kissed his shoulder and brushed his hair back behind his ear.  "I'll be in in a bit."

He whispered "Okay," and slowly handed me the picture as he stood.  

"You can keep it," I told him, putting it back in his hand.  "I made a copy at the office.  I had a feeling you might want it."

Without responding, he put the picture in the pocket of his shirt and silently left the room.  I watched him go, my heart aching at how he suddenly didn't seem so imposingly tall anymore, his shoulders hunched over slightly, drawing into himself.  I wanted to follow him immediately to make sure he was alright, but I left him alone, getting down on my hands and knees instead to gather the scattered papers and sort them back into the file.  Only when it was done and I had arranged and rearranged everything obsessively into the proper order did I finally venture into the bedroom.

I found him laying on the bed, facing away from the door.  A quick glance around the room revealed that he had laid the picture on the dresser and taken off his boots, but had done nothing else by way of undressing himself.  I crawled onto the bed behind him and gently laid my hand on his shoulder to see if he was awake.

"How can I be anyone's father?  She's almost as old as I was when I met her mum."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I just put my chin on his shoulder for a minute.  "It's up to you if you want to meet her or not.  She's a kid, barely even a teenager.  She just wants to meet her dad, I doubt she expects you to raise her.  According to the file her grandmother is her legal guardian and she seems fine and happy there."

He sighed heavily.  "I knew her mum for a grand total of nine hours."

"I know," I whispered, trying to be supportive without leading his emotions.  "But it was a good nine hours, wasn't it?  I mean, you never forgot her, did you."

I heard his breath catch in his throat and thought for a brief moment that he might be crying.  Pushing his hair out of the way so I could press my face against the back of his neck, I kissed his skin and slipped my arm under his, hooking it around his chest to rub his collarbone.  "Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes.  Please stay."

We lay there like that for hours, napping in our clothes, until I awoke with a start and realized he was no longer in the bed.  I could hear the shower so I staggered as quietly as I could to the bathroom, drowsy and groggy from the unscheduled early sleep, and watched as he finished washing and turned the water off.  As he stepped out he looked at me with reddened eyes, taking the towel I held out to him and rubbing at his dripping hair with it, giving me his best faking-it smile as I stepped out of my skirt and blouse and got into the shower.  He leaned against the sink and watched me.

Over the spray of the water, I heard his voice.

"Would you touch yourself for me, Anja?"

I didn't even look at him before sliding my hands down my wet body and cupping myself.  "Tell me what you want, baby," I said, dropping my head back so the water crashed against my chest.  He hadn't made any move to touch me or join me and I somehow knew that he wouldn't.

He paused for a moment, then answered, "Make yourself come.  I want you to feel good...you had to do something unpleasant for me and I need to make it up to you, but I can't do it myself.  Not tonight."

I nodded, turning my head to finally look at him.  He was still leaning back against the sink with his hands on the basin to either side of him. The towel he'd used to sop his hair was wrapped around his hips. There was no expression on his face - no sadness, no worry, no emotion of any kind.  But his eyes gave him away...his eyes held so much pain and loss and despair that it was all I could do to follow his orders instead of rushing out of the shower to hug him.  But to do so would have embarrassed him, because the emotionless face was all he knew he was showing me.  He didn't know that his eyes were telling me the rest was a lie.  And I wasn't about to humiliate him by exposing their betrayal.  I also wasn't about to disobey him, because to do so would have made him feel worse...a big part of his life was out of his hands right now, and he needed to feel like he was in control of something.  I could let him be in control of _me._

It was the very least I could do for him.

 

Late that night I woke again to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at the picture in his hands.  He sensed immediately that I was awake and quietly asked, "What's her name?"

"Cara."

"Cara.  And she gave her my last name?"

"Yes.  Cara Alicia Heyworth."

He made a little noise that sounded like a soft laugh.  "Her mother's name was Alicia."

"Yeah."  I snuggled up against his back, laying my head against his spine.  He leaned back into me a little and reached back with one hand to squeeze my knee.  

"Thank you for bringing this to me.  Couldn't have been easy for you to do."

"It wasn't my work...it was given to me by someone else.  They thought you should find out about it from me."

He nodded, still looking down at the picture.  "Was it Laing?"

I hesitated, which gave him his answer.  There was a long silence, then finally he turned to look at me over his shoulder.

"Tell him thanks for me."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	19. Chapter 19

 

 

I took the next morning off so I could stay with Tom, not sure what his frame of mind was going to be after his stressful night.  He had tossed and turned, getting up to pace the room at least twice, coming back to bed only after I insisted the he needed to sleep.  I don't believe he ever actually closed his eyes, and when I got up at sunup he was in the kitchen drinking coffee.

"No tea?" I asked, sliding my hand across his back as I walked past him to the fridge.  He grabbed my arm and stopped me before I was out of reach.

"Are you going in today?" 

"Not till noon, I called in.  Are you going to the pub?"

"At noon."  He pulled me toward him, almost tentatively, like he wasn't sure if I wanted him to touch me.  I let him draw me closer and put my hands on his shoulders, brushing his hair back with my fingers.

"You look like a wild man.  Let me put this in a braid if you're not going to wash it."

His eyes were pleading as he looked into mine, and I felt alarms going off in that part of your nervous system that signals when something's just a little bit wrong.  But I didn't ask, just waited for him to speak when he was ready.  I could tell he was struggling.

When he finally found his words, they sounded weak.  "I swear to you that I didn't about this, Anja."

I nodded.  "I know.  Even - "  I stopped myself before I said Laing's name " - even my boss said it was obvious you didn't know anything about it. But you know what?"  I continued brushing his hair with my fingers, smoothing and pushing it back behind his ears.  "It would be okay even if you did know.  It's your business, your past, nothing to do with me.  Not my business.  I would want to know, of course, but only if it was something you wanted to share with me."

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

 

I stood behind him, braiding his long hair, taking my time and massaging my fingers into his scalp to relax him.  He seemed like he had himself pulled back together again, in much better shape than he'd been in the previous night, but I could tell he was completely lost as to what he was supposed to do.  He obviously knew how to run a business by himself and take care of all the day to day responsibilities involved with it, but how many people are actually prepared for a surprise of this caliber?  He definitely wasn't and it showed in his general unnerved state.  I'd never seen him like this before and it made me feel so bad for him...I wanted to solve his problem, just take the whole thing and deal with it myself, but it wasn't my business to handle.  It was his.

While I was tugging at his hair, he tipped his head back and sighed resignedly.  "Do you still have that file?"

"It's on the coffee table in the livingroom."

"Why don't you get it and we'll look at it together."

Hesitation made me almost tell him no; I didn't want to have to see his face as he looked at Alicia's life and last days.  He said he knew nothing about her, but that file contained potentially all the information he could ever possibly hope for.  Did he want to know?

I knotted a rubber band around the bottom of his braid and leaned down to kiss his head.  "I'll go get it."

 

We spread the file out on the table in front of us.  I moved from Tom's side to sit down in a chair, but he wrapped an arm around my hips and pulled at me, indicating strongly that he wanted me to sit on his knee instead.  I obliged and we spent the better part of the next hour reading documents, sorting things into chronological order, and piecing together the small part of this woman's life that the file could clue us in to. It was obvious she'd been someone of importance, though exactly how wasn't clear.  She was pedigreed, moneyed, connected...but none of it gave any clue as to why someone like her ended up in a hotel room with a fifteen year old runaway.  That part was still a mystery, and it was obvious that if I wanted it solved, I was going to have to ask Tom for the details.

I was staring at the photo of Cara when I noticed his eyes were on me, intent and questioning.

"You want to know about that night, don't you."

I shook my head.  "It's not my business."

"It is if she ends up being a part of my life," he corrected me, indicating the photo.  "She'll be a part of your life too, by default."

"True."

He leaned toward me, putting his arms on the table.  "I was sleeping in a bus station in Albuquerque.  She came in to pick up a friend who didn't arrive and ended up sitting next to me till I woke up, and we started talking."  He looked up from where his eyes had been focused on the woodgrain pattern in the table and shifted his gaze to me.  "I guess it was obvious I was a vagrant, I didn't have any luggage, just a backpack...she took pity on me and I honestly believe that's all it was."  He gave me a pleading look, the same one I'd been seeing so much from him lately.  "I don't want you to think badly of her.  I know the situation sounds...reprehensible, and in truth it was, but not by her doing.  I told her I was 19, and since I was so tall for my age, she believed me."  His eyes got a faraway look to them for a moment before he shook his head a little, like he was clearing it.  "So long story short, she took me to her hotel room and we fucked all night.  And somewhere in the early morning while we were eating room service, I gave her that poster because she was my first and I wanted to give her something.  It was all I had on me."

I know I flinched a little at his harsh words, but I wasn't going to say anything - it was his memory, I had no right to dictate how he remembered it or how he told it.  But I couldn't stand hearing him put it that way when I knew it meant so much more to him than that.

"Don't reduce it to that, Tom."

"Reduce it to what?" he asked, even though I knew he knew damn well what I was talking about.

"Fucking.  You and I both know it wasn't like that."

He raised an eyebrow.  "Actually, it was, Anja.  It was a one night stand between a woman who had nothing better to do with her evening and a kid who looked at her and saw a warm hotel room and a hamburger if he played his cards right."

I shook my head, refusing to believe him.  I'd seen that look in his eyes, the way he savored that memory.  The smile that always sneaked across his lips.  

"You're lying.  Why?"

"I'm not lying."

"Yes you are...tell me why."

He sighed with resignation, or maybe it was frustration at my dogged insistence.  "Because...she cried when she saw on that poster how old I really was.  She tried to give me money to get me home safely but I refused it.  And she told me that if I wasn't going to turn around and go back home, I was going to have to learn some skills to get me the rest of the way alive.  So right then and there, on a room service banana, she taught me how to give a blowjob."  He paused for just a second before he added, "A skill I utilized nine times between there and San Diego."

This was the part I'd been afraid of.  The part I didn't want to hear.  It had crossed my mind at least once that he knew how to do some things that most men wouldn't.  Flattening your tongue to keep from gagging on something being stuffed into your mouth was a skill mostly utilized by women, at least to my personal knowledge.  Yet he'd done it so naturally, taking it in stride when I had tried to make him choke on my fingers the night he'd given me control.  

Ever since I'd first heard about him crossing the country alone, I had wondered just how he'd survived the trip and made it here alive.  He was a beautiful man, and I had pictorial proof that he was a beautiful boy. He had to have been a gorgeous teenager as well.  Alicia had taught him how to make use of that fact to keep himself alive.  To keep him from starving and earn him safe places to sleep and transportation.

 _Good for her._ He wouldn't take her money so she taught him a skill.  Twisted, but she did him a favor and probably kept him alive.

I tried to read the expression on Tom's face, not sure how to interpret it.  Was he ashamed, disgusted, indifferent?  It was only after I'd stared at him for a few long moments that I realized he was doing the exact same thing to me.

"What are you thinking?" he finally asked.

"That you did what you had to do."

"And you're okay with that?"

I gave him a confused look.  "Why wouldn't I be?"

He laughed, not quite bitter, but not quite mirthful either.  "Because your mate just admitted that he sucked cock from Albuquerque to San Diego so he could sleep in hotels instead of bus stations."

I flinched again.  He could be so brutally hard on himself.

"While not an ideal solution, it did get you here alive, didn't it."

"Do you want to know what else she taught me?"

"Does it involve the banana?"

He laughed a little, but didn't look at me this time.  "Do you really want to know?"

I swallowed hard, staring at my hands beneath the table while I made my mind up.

"No."  I held my hand up, showing him the silver band on my thumb.  "See this?  The day you put this on me, remember that day?  That's the day my involvement in your business began.  That's the day I started having a right to participate in your life choices.  Prior to that day isn't mine to judge, and any secrets from before then that you want to keep are yours to do just that with."

He gave me that smile again, the one that was confined to only his mouth.  "You asked me what happened while you were in London."

My ears perked up.  Was he actually going to volunteer information that he'd refused me previously?  I tried not to seem too eager and just nodded slightly, going to sit down across the table from him.

"Yeah...you seemed kind of bummed out about something."

He sighed.  "I'm glad you're so accurately perceptive, girl...I was afraid maybe you thought I'd done something horrible."

"Like what?  Sacrificing kittens?"

"I dunno, like fucking around or something."

His words shocked me a little but I tried not to let it show.  "Why would I think something like that?  Your behavior didn't strike me as guilty.  I sorta thought you got some bad news or something."

He eyed his coffee cup, turning it around and around slowly between his hands.  "Bad news.  Yeah.  Something like that."

His voice was quiet and I didn't push him to continue.  He finally looked up at me and offered a weak smile that looked a little bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry about last night."

"Why, what happened last night?"

"I wasn't able to make love to you."

"Oh Tom...why would you worry about that?  Listen, after the bombshell you had dropped on you there's no way I would have ever expected you to even think about that, much less be able to do it."

"That's just the thing though, Anja.  I couldn't.  I wanted to, I felt so much love for you, for the way you were just accepting everything and...and... _not leaving me._  I just - "

"Wait...what are you saying?  That you felt like you owed me sex because I didn't say oh shit, you've got a kid, I'm out of here?"

His eyes went to his coffee cup again and his face fell.

"No no _no_ \- Tom, listen to me.  I'm not some old man in Tucumcari giving you a hot shower and a place to sleep, you don't owe me sex for being nice to you!"

He flinched, visibly, his whole body tensing.  I knew I had hit a very sore nerve and it told me more than I wanted to know, but I couldn't stop there. "Baby, I love you.  I understand that you're stressed, trust me I do.  You should have seen me at the office agonizing over whether or not to even bring this home to you - I shook all the way home and I talked myself out of it about a dozen times between my office door and the front door of this house.  And it's not even _about_ me."  I reached out and put my hand on top of his.  It was shaking.  "But never once, not for one second, was there ever a moment when I thought about not coming home to you."

A single tear slipped out of the corner of his left eye and slid down his cheekbone.  

"I promised myself after I got here that I would never rely on anyone to take care of me again.  I traded myself for the care of strangers and I swore I'd never be in that situation again.  So forgive me, girl, if I have a hard time letting you look after me."

"I'm not a stranger and you're not trading anything for my care, Tom.  I'm giving it to you."  I touched the wet trail over his cheekbone with my fingertip.  "You don't owe me anything for it, now or ever.  And what you did...you did what you had to do.  You were taking care of _yourself,_ they weren't doing it for you.  You were just trading what they wanted for what you wanted, that's not letting them take care of you. That's...well that's _enterprise."_

He looked at me like I'd just grown tentacles.  "So you're calling me a prostitute."

"Well...sort of...I guess."

He laughed a little.  "Nice.  Thanks."  

I got up to pour myself another cup of coffee and patted his shoulder as I passed him.  "Anytime, darling."  It was a feeble attempt to lighten the mood and I knew it wouldn't be successful.  While I was pouring, Tom sighed loudly and I turned around to find him with his head down on the table.

"You okay big guy?" 

"After what I said to you about Laing...you still don't ever think badly of anything I do."  He shook his head, smiling bitterly.  "You're a better person than I am, Anja.  You should have slapped me when I asked you that."

I was confused, I couldn't remember exactly what he'd said - so much had happened since then.

"What did you ask me?"

"You really don't remember?"

"No...my brain kinda reset right after I saw you on that missing kid poster."

I had settled on the edge of the table and he tentatively put his hand on my knee, giving it a very light squeeze, like he was testing the waters to see if I was going to shy away from his touch.  I sat perfectly still, my eyes trained on his.

"I asked if you would tell me if Laing did anything to you.  I believe I heavily implied that I didn't think you would."

"Ahh.  That.  Yeah, I was kinda trying to let that one go."

"Why would you let it go?"

"Because I dunno...I love you?  I knew you were upset even though I didn't know why?  I thought it best not to push my luck?  Take your pick, they're all pretty valid."

He squeezed my knee.

"I love you too."

I put my hand over his and stroked his fingers.  "So what are we going to do?" I asked quietly.  He knew immediately what I meant, I could tell by the shift in his expression.

"I honestly don't know, baby.  What does one do when told they have a fourteen year old daughter they've never met by a woman they only met once?"  He shook his head.  "I can't seem to wrap my brain around it."  He chewed his lower lip, his eyes fixed on the coffee cup in front of him. "What would you do?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes, honestly.  You're an amazingly together person, Anja.  I trust your judgement, way more than my own right now."

I thought for a moment.

"I would take this - "  I held up a letterhead from the file that had Mrs Stephenson's attorney's phone number  " - give him a call, and start asking questions."

"What sort of questions?"

"Where Cara is, what her home situation is like, how old the grandmother is, is she in good health, are there other relatives in the picture - if anything indicates that they're hunting you down as a line-of-succession thing, then you need to start thinking about whether or not you'd be able to raise this girl."

He cocked an eyebrow and smiled.  "See?  This is where you shine.  You think like a lawyer.  I wouldn't have thought of any of that."

"You would when they dropped a teenager off on your doorstep with a note saying 'feed me'."

He sighed, drumming his fingertips on the table.  "I would take her.  There's no way in hell I would let her go into foster care."

"No...I didn't think you would."

He looked up at me.  "Would that be okay with you?"

I leaned over and pressed a kiss lightly against his temple.  "Of course it would.  She's yours.  You're my mate.  Where do you see an issue?"

 

When I got to work I went straight to Laing's office and pushed the door open hard enough to make it slam the wall behind it.

"I have some questions that I'd like answered," I announced without ceremony, watching him warily as he quickly got up from behind his desk and went to close the door.  He turned and looked at me, his face telling me instantly that he already knew what I was there for.

"Sit down Anja."

"I don't want to sit down, I want to know why you know all those details about how Tom got from there to here.  It's not in that file.  That is the _Olivetti_ file and it says nothing about him other than he's that girl's father and there's a missing child poster with his picture on it.  So tell me - is there a Heyworth file too?"

He fixed me with his best boardroom stare, expecting me to calm down and have a seat, just like every worked-up client that ever came through his doors.  But I stood my ground and refused to be cowed by him. He went back to his desk and sat down, leaning over to open a drawer.

He pulled out a file and dropped it on the desk.

"Yes, there is a Heyworth file."

"Why."  When he didn't answer quickly enough, I asked again, changing my tone to register as slightly more demanding.  "Why?   _Why_ would there be a file on him?  He's not a client, he's not a criminal, and the only interest you could possibly have in him besides locating him for Mrs Stephenson is _personal in nature."_

He nodded, his expression unreadable.  He was good at this, it was one of the many reasons his name was on the side of the building.  But I was prepared to get loud if I had to, consequences be damned.

"I'll own up to it, Anja.  I'm not particularly proud of myself for this.  I was going to just lock the file away and never bring it up."

_"Why does it exist in the first place?!"_

He sighed.  "Because, Anja - when I saw that missing child poster I realized this man has got a history that reeks of - "

I waited for him to finish, but he suddenly seemed unwilling to go any further.

"Reeks of what?"

"I thought...he's got no breeding, Anja.  I felt like he was beneath you."

My mouth dropped open.  "No _breeding?_  Did I really hear you say that?  What kind of elitist swine _are_ you?"  He started to speak but I cut him off.  "That man is worth ten of you on a bad day.  You saw him on a missing poster and decided what?  That you would dig up some dirt on him that you could drop on my desk with a triumphant smirk and then you and I would trot happily off to the conference room for a celebratory fuck now that my priorities were straight?"  I realized I had my hands on my hips and that my indignant posture was probably the least imposing thing in the room, but I didn't care.  I was genuinely pissed.  "How _dare_ you.  How many people did you have working on this?  How many of your office cronies participated in this little witch hunt?"

He shook his head briefly.  "Only my personal secretary.  And she's already been told to conveniently forget everything."

"Oh really?  And why is that?"

"Because in my little witch hunt I found out that what you just said is true.  This man is worth ten of me.  On a bad day."  He sighed deeply and to my surprise, his shame sounded sincere.  "Admittedly, and to my great chagrin, I must own up to the fact that I started this inquest with the intent of digging up whatever unsavory information I could on him, after the Olivetti file came across my desk and I saw him on that runaway poster.  But it seems all I could find was more and more evidence that he's of fine moral character and a damn good guy."  He picked up the file and held it out to me.  "Take it.  Read it, burn it, give it to him. Whatever you want.  Nothing that's in there will ever pass my lips."

I stared at him in disbelief for a long moment, then hesitantly took the file.

He stood and buttoned his jacket, straightening his tie as he came around the desk.  "There is one little matter in there that you might want to look into yourself, Anja."  I dragged my eyes away from the thick file and made myself look at him, despite how disgusted I felt with him.

"And what's that."

He walked past me and reached for the doorknob, pausing just long enough to look back at me before he opened the door.  "It seems he killed someone."

 

I took the file to my office and tossed it on the sofa across from my desk, torn in a million different directions as to what to do with it.  Part of me wanted to take it out back and set fire to it in the alley; another part wanted to skim through it quickly out of pure curiosity.  And then there was that little matter about Tom committing murder.  I already knew who that someone _supposedly_ was...but Laing had fucked me over when he put the file in my hand and spoke that one sentence to me.  He had handed me a file containing potentially incriminating evidence to an alleged murder claim.  He had informed me of its contents and I had consented to accepting the information by taking the file, meaning I was now legally bound to participate in any proceedings concerning those contents.  But since there was no case - not that I was aware of, at any rate - I had no idea how to proceed.  But I did know one thing...I really wanted to know if Tom had killed Eric's father.

I sat staring at the file for a long time, debating the pros and cons in my head.  The moral dilemma was anything but clear.  Would I be betraying Tom's trust if I read it?  Was the information inside it legally obtained?  What lengths had Laing gone to to secure this information?  And why was that file so damn _thick??_

I picked up my phone and dialed Tom's number.  

 

"Read it."

I paused, giving him a chance to change his mind.

"Go on.  Read it.  I know what's in it, and it's not anything I wouldn't tell you if you asked the right questions.  So go ahead."

"Tom, I'd really rather not."

"Please do, Anja.  It's all stuff you'll find out eventually anyway.  Make it easier on both of us and just get it all in one sitting.  With my blessing. And when you're done...come home to me if you can.  I'll be waiting."

 

I went back to Laing's office and knocked this time.  His deep voice intoned _"Come."_  

"If you're not too busy...I would appreciate it if you would tell me what's in that file."

He sighed, steepling his fingers together in front of his face, his eyes looking past them to some indescript spot on the desk.  "The best, worst, or most shocking?"

"Start with the best."

"Okay.  His sister."

"She's dead."

"No, she's not."

I felt my eyebrows shoot up in surprise.  "She's not?  But he said - "

"She's very much alive.  Although I'm not really sure life is the best scenario for her."  He looked directly into my eyes and I saw something like pity there again, for the second time in a single day.  Laing was really on an emotional roll.  "She's in a mental health care facility.  And quite a good one, at that.  All her medical care, doctors, specialists, expenses, board, all paid for in full by her brother."

I sat down.  This couldn't be.  Hadn't he said she was dead - ?  I tried to remember his exact words... _one day she cut too deep_...that was all he'd said.  I had assumed the rest.

"He visits her regularly, although he doesn't interact with her on most visits.  It seems the sight of him...agitates her condition.  But he still goes.  He talks to her caretakers, settles her bills, and leaves quietly."

I shook my head, dizzy from the pieces that were falling into place.  "That's why he lives in that tiny little apartment and owns two changes of clothes even though he runs the most popular pub in the city."

Laing didn't say anything.  Though most of his employees frequented Tom's bar, as far as I knew he had never been there himself.  I looked up at him and put my hand out in a _please continue_ gesture.  "The worst?"

"His alleged involvement in the death of a certain Mr Lensher."

"Eric's father."

"Yes."

"Alleged."

"Yes - nothing was ever proven and he was never even questioned."

"Okay...you want to sum it up for me, since there are no police reports?"

That look was back again, that expression of pity.  It was making me uncomfortable;  I didn't like thinking that Laing was actually experiencing emotions about this situation.  "There was an altercation over his sister, who was being fostered in the Lensher home.  The details are unclear but the allegation made by a neighbor is that Mr Heyworth killed him.  But there was never any evidence to back the claim and another boy present gave compelling enough proof that it couldn't have been him."

"Another boy?"   _Had to have been Chris._

"Yes, there was another teenage boy who arrived on the scene with...your boyfriend."

I stifled a laugh, catching the decidedly unsettled posture Laing's entire body seemed to take on when referring to Tom.  "You can say his name, you know."

He gave me a sardonic grin.  "I'd rather not."

"What _is it_ with you two?"

"Anja, I have work to do - can we wrap this up please?"

"Alright, alright...I see your little secretary hovering around the door, I'm assuming that means the conference room will be occupied after I let you go."  Laing's eyebrow shot up and there was the slightest tug of a grin at the corner of his mouth.  "So - we've covered the best and the worst of it. Most shocking?"

"The girl in New Mexico."

"Which I already know about.  And these are the highlights - there's nothing else in there any worse than any of that?"

"That's it."

I shook my head in disgust.  "Did you honestly think any of this would make me leave him?"

He shook his head slowly, a look of sincerity softening his usually steely face.  "Not after London.  That's when I decided to just leave it."

I stood up, straightening my skirt, looking him straight in the eye as I leaned over his desk and put my face near his.  "Wise decision.  Don't ever fuck with my mate again, Mr Laing, or I won't even bother to turn him loose on you...I'll come for you myself."

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

 

I finished out my day at the office, but my heart wasn't in it - it was at home with Tom, trying to work out how to deal with all this new input. He had told me to read the file, but it was still sitting on the sofa in my office, occupying the space as if it were a client waiting its turn for a consultation.  A consultation I kept finding every excuse not to grant.

Laing had given me the highlights, but not even the alleged homicide could take precedence in my mind over the bit that he had called "the good news".

_Emma was alive._

Of all the things I'd just found out, that, to me, was the most shocking.  I had drawn the conclusion in my own head that she had killed herself, based on Tom's words - _one day she just cut too deep_ \- coupled with the look of unbearable sadness on his face in that moment.  But knowing Tom the way I knew him, it made sense that the most sadness he would feel would be at a person's continued suffering.  Not their death. Death stops the suffering.  His face had said it all, I just read it wrong.

 

An hour before quitting time, I got a text from Ewan.

_Fuckboy:  What's up with Tommy?  He left early_

I stared at it for a moment before it dawned on me who it was.

_Why is your screen name Fuckboy?_

_Fuckboy:  Yeah, Tommy did that.  Did you 2 fight?_

_No.  He's just tired.  You should work harder._

_Fuckboy:  Ha!  He needs 2 hire more help.  Send him back, I'm swamped._

_I'm at work.  I'll talk to him when I get home._

_Fuckboy:  Hurry I'm dying here.  He's not answering his phone._

_Call Chris.  Talk to you later._

 

It wasn't like Tom not to answer his phone.  A little worried, I dialed him up.

"Is everything okay honey?"

There was a pause, then I heard him laugh a little bit, softly.  "Yeah, I'm good."

"What's funny?"

"You - shifting into protective mommy mode.  Nobody's called me honey since Ewan's ninety year old great grandmum came to the pub for her birthday last year."

"Speaking of whom, 'Fuckboy' is freaking out, he says you're not answering his calls.  I told him to get Chris to help him."

"Yeah, thanks.  I fell asleep."

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Just tired.  You coming home soon?"

"In about an hour, unless you need me now.  I can wrap it up here - "

"No, no, I'm fine.  So long as I know you're..."

I waited a few seconds, but he didn't finish.  I knew what he was refraining from saying.  "Of course I'm coming home, Tom.  You'd have to come up just shy of murder before I'd even start to consider leaving you."

"That's _really_ not funny."

"I know - sorry.  I could use some lightness right about now."

There was a long pause and I could hear him breathing.  It sounded quick and heavy, a little worrisome.  "I'm sorry, baby.  I didn't mean to throw a shadow over everything," he finally said.

"Be quiet and go back to bed.  I'll be there soon."

 

I went ahead and stayed until quitting time.  Something told me Tom needed every last minute by himself that he could get before I walked in and started asking questions, and I didn't want to crowd him out of any of that time.  I needed some of it myself...the file was still waiting, and he'd told me to read it.  He would be expecting me to.  So despite my hesitation to stick my nose into a past that didn't belong to me and the fact that it felt like the basest kind of betrayal, I reluctantly stretched out on the office sofa and kicked off my shoes, holding the thick file on my lap for a long while before finally opening it.

 

When I got home Tom was laying on the bed, just as I'd told him to do.  His back was to the door;  not wanting to wake him if he was sleeping, I very quietly climbed onto the bed behind him and snuggled up to his broad back.  I could feel him breathing and it was like before - quick and heavy.  I started to wonder if he was coming down sick.

"So you know about Emma," he asked, breaking into my thoughts.  It wasn't really a question so much as a statement.  I murmured _mnn hmm_ against his shoulder blade and scooted in closer to him, hoping to comfort him with my closeness.  

"Is that what you were upset about when I got back from London?  That mood you were in?"

He took a deep breath and shifted, turning over so that he was facing me.  I slipped my arms around him and stroked his long braid on the pillow behind him, tugging at it the way I knew he liked.  He closed his eyes and his face visibly relaxed for a moment.   

"I went to visit her while you were away.  She freaked out the moment she saw me.  She's not any better, Anja...if anything, I think she's worse." He squeezed his eyes shut tight, like he was trying to hold back tears, but they slipped out anyway.  "I'm her trigger.  She can't see me without having a breakdown. That's why I stay away, with the exception of going every couple of weeks to check her progress with her doctors and the caregivers.  I don't usually let her see me.  But I thought I would try, this time, I thought maybe...she would be able to take it."  He clenched his jaw and a muscle in his cheek flinched.  "She couldn't."

I pulled at his hair a little harder to keep him focused on me.  "Why are you her trigger?"

"She blamed me for what happened to her.  I didn't get to her in time to keep what happened...from happening.  She blamed me.  I didn't save her and that's why she..."  His voice trailed off and he stopped talking, his eyes focused past my head.  I felt an immediate need to get him off this subject.

"Did you kill Eric's dad?"

His eyes came back to me and I could see his pupils contracting, tightening till they were just pinpoints in the middle of the blue.

"Yes and no."

"Yes and no?"

"Well actually...no.  I wish I had.  I just happened to be there, I got to see it."  There was a bitter grin, a look of annoyed exasperation.  "Eric, though - he always thought it was me."

"What happened?"

He shook his head with a look that told me this was a question he didn't intend to answer.  His eyes shifted for a moment, then came back to mine again and held my gaze. "Don't ask me that."  Then he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in my scent as he moved his hand to my chest and, surprisingly, squeezed my breast.

"I need you, girl," he whispered, his voice harsh and raspy against my cheek.   _"Please."_

I had been careful not to touch anyone at work so that I wouldn't bombard him with smells of strange skin and unwelcome pheromones, but I imagined he could at least smell a little bit of Laing on me since I'd spent so much time in his office.  I was ready to apologize for not showering before I came in when he tightened his arms around me and tugged me up close, pressing himself hard against me.  I could feel him stiffening as he pushed his hips into mine.  

"Of course," I whispered back.  I realized after I said it that my response sounded cold and businesslike, devoid of emotion, and I flinched - but he didn't seem to notice or care.  His other hand was suddenly sliding up my back and he was kissing me, his lips searching as if they didn't know what they were looking for but would know it when they found it.  I lay still in his arms and let him touch me, the instinctive part of me knowing he needed to just be allowed to do as he wished, the more logical part arguing that he needed guidance or he would be too rough and unfocused.  I wasn't afraid of a little rough, not from Tom...but I wasn't sure what his mood was going to end up being, and I'd never seen him like this.  I'd always felt a constant danger just beneath his surface that was exciting in its potential, but in this, an uncontrolled situation with indeterminate factors whose effect on him were, at this point, unknown...it was risky.  I didn't want to have to end up being mad at him for losing himself.

He rolled me over onto my back and let his weight push me into the mattress, unzipping his jeans to free himself.  "Forgive me, girly," he breathed into my neck as his hands pushed my skirt up and roughly tugged my panties aside to make room for his cock to nudge into my folds. I wasn't wet yet but he pushed in until he hit resistance, stopping to pull my blouse off over my head and tug my bra out of the way. Then his mouth was all over me, kissing and licking and sucking, till my body began responding the way it always did, wetting my entrance for him, easing his way into me.  The sigh that escaped his lips as he slid the rest of the way in was mixed with a groan and I could tell by his face that he was holding himself back as best he could.

Reaching up to shove my fingers into the plaits of his braid, I spread my legs wide for him and took his earlobe between my teeth, biting it harder than I normally would.  I didn't want to take the dominant role from him, but leading him into a safe way to exorcise his aggression seemed the smart thing at the moment.  Left to his own devices, he would quickly take all control before I could establish myself as more than just the recipient of his frustration - and in his current frame of mind, it would be easy for that to happen.  If I set the pace at a level I knew he would be hitting anyway, and kept up with him, I stood a chance of not being hurt and him not feeling guilty when it was over.  Besides, I knew I could take it...tender lovemaking and rough sex were often synonymous in our relationship.  But that was when we both knew how each other was feeling.  Right at this moment, I had no idea what was going on in Tom's head, and it was making me nervous.

"Fuck me as hard as you want, baby...just be careful."

He pulled his head up and met eyes with me.  "Careful?  Are you okay?"

I nodded, undoing his braid so I could run my fingers through his hair.  I could feel his cock throbbing inside me as he slid it out just a bit, halting himself.  "You seem like you could lose control easily.  I'm not in the mood to get hurt."

The look on his face shifted from steely lust to honest concern and he moved his upper body weight onto his arms and off of me.  "Are you feeling fragile because of all this?"

I moved my hands to his face and stroked his cheekbones with my thumbs.  "Yes...but I know you are too, that's why I want to reel you in a bit before you go all fuckmachine on me."

He smiled a little, lowering his head to kiss my lips.  "I won't hurt you, baby girl.  You're my lifeline.  And right now I'm holding on with everything I've got...maybe too tightly."  He nuzzled his face along my jawline, kissing and licking, his breath quickening again.  I could barely hear him when he whispered, _"You're all I've got."_

I felt a little twinge of jealousy when those words hit my ears, because I knew they weren't going to be true for much longer.  He was about to have someone else in his life, someone besides his friends and his absent sister.  Someone besides me.  He was most likely about to have Cara, in some form or another.

I put it out of my mind and slipped my arms around his back, sliding them up under his hair to stroke the back of his neck while I nibbled his earlobe, keeping him focused.  He groaned and pushed himself back into me, pulling a gasp from my throat with the intensity of the thrust.  I could hear him murmuring something against my throat as he pushed harder, quickening his rhythm against my body, his grip tightening around my shoulders as his hips ground into mine with an almost painful, carefully contained force.

_"Don't leave me...I need you...please don't ever leave me..."_

 

Afterward, neither of us slept.  It was early evening and I wasn't tired, but Tom didn't make any move to get out of bed so I just lay there with him, my body draped over his, pressed into his side with my knee drawn up on his stomach.  I traced the swirling lines of the tattoo on his hip with my finger, following the outline of the howling wolf down the side of his thigh.  I noticed absently that there was a jagged scar running through the center of the bit where clouds swirled into the moon.

"You know...you could move into my place, if you wanted."

He stopped running his fingers through my hair and took a handful, tugging my head back slowly so that I had to look up at him.

"Why would I do that?"

I closed my eyes and let him pull my hair, showing my submission even though the sex was over.  I knew he needed me to.

"Because, I don't know, it might be easier, financially."

He gave me a confused look, still gripping my hair.

"I know Emma is in a really nice place, Stonebrook is famous for being one of the best.  You're taking really good care of her and she's got the best doctors, round the clock caregivers...none of that is cheap."

Realization crept across his face and he laughed a little, loosening his grip.  "You think I live here because this is all I can afford?"

"Well...isn't it?"

He put his hand over my face and squeezed.  "You silly cow.  Ewan drives a brand new Harley every year, how do you think he manages that?"

Irritated, I bit at his palm.  "I dunno, he steals them?"

"He drives a brand new Harley every year because I pay him really fucking well."

"Okay - so why do you drive a twelve year old Dodge?"

"Because I like that twelve year old Dodge."  He took his hand off my face and slid it down to my hip where he gave me a hard slap.  "But I could drive a new Harley if I wanted to."

I felt a rush of embarrassment when I realized what he was saying.  I had assumed all his money went to caring for Emma and that he was living on what was left.  Apparently he was doing okay for both of them. "So the pub does good?"

"Yes, the pub does good."  He reached over to turn off the lamp, sliding me off him as he turned on his side.  "Now don't ask me any more questions tonight, I'm tired."

"But it's barely night."

"I'm going to take a nap.  You go do whatever you want."  He settled onto his side, facing away from me.  I couldn't tell if he was aggravated with me or just tired, or possibly both.  I stared at the back of his neck for a little while until he turned and looked at me over his shoulder.

"What?"

"You know I really can't stand you, don't you."

He snickered under his breath.  "Of course I do.  That's why you let me fuck you ten minutes ago."

I shoved his hip, rolling him over away from me.  "Jerk.  You're ugly and you dress funny."

"I hate you too, bitch pudding."

I slipped my hand up under his arm and slid it down to his chest.  "Let me take care of you, Tom.  You always take care of me.  I might be yours but you're mine, too, remember."

He put his hand over mine on his chest and pressed it into his skin.  "When I need taken care of, you will be the first person I call to do it."  He pulled my hand up to his lips and kissed it.  "Now let me sleep."

 

His nap lasted several hours.  I let him sleep, knowing he needed it - it had been two days at least since he'd truly rested, so after checking on him for the dozenth time, I got dressed and went down to the pub. There were several messages on my phone from both Ewan and Chris asking why Tom wasn't answering, and I figured I would just talk to them in person instead of texting back.

When I got there Ewan was busy in the back, so I settled at the bar and waited for Chris to finish drawing a beer before he came over with a grin and slid a coaster in front of me.

"I dunno how to do those weird coffees you like, but I can get you a regular if you want."

"Just a water, thanks Chris."

"Ah I see how it is - if it's not made by Tommy it's not good enough, huh?"

"Damn straight."

He laughed and drew me an ice water, then leaned on his hands in front of me and fixed me with a hard stare.

"What's up with Tommy?  He okay?"

I sipped my drink, trying to keep my face passive, assuming Tom hadn't told anyone anything.  "He's really tired, I think he's working too hard.  He was asleep when I left a bit ago."

Chris's face gave away his solid disbelief that I was telling anything even close to the truth.

"And?"

"And nothing, he was tired.  He said so."

He stared at me for a long time with that _you're lying_ face, then shrugged and stepped away to draw himself a mug.  "Well whatever it is, tell him I'm on for double overtime tonight unless he gets his ass in here by nine."

"You don't work for him."

"The hell I don't - I've been here for four hours already, I'm on the payroll."

"Then get me something to eat, I'm starved."

 

While Chris was making me a sandwich, I asked him to tell me about when Tom came to live with him.  All I knew was that they had hung out together after Chris got home in the afternoons - Tom had never gone back to school after walking away to find Emma, and he'd been sleeping in an empty apartment at night until Chris's mom caught wind of it and insisted that he live with them.  That was the extent of my knowledge of their relationship, other than the fact that they'd remained best friends for all these years.

Chris didn't seem hesitant to talk about him.  "He was a nice kid, really good manners, polite, well behaved.  Mom loved him.  It was weird because in spite of everything that happened to him, everything he saw, everything he had to go through - he was always okay and just really together.  He was never fucked up like you'd expect him to be.  Which is weird, for a kid that young to have that kind of coping skills."

"Did he have any problems...like, you know, traumatic stress disorder, stuff like that?"  I picked up the sandwich he put in front of me and tried to act casual even though my question felt intrusive.

Chris nodded a little, his face showing something between sadness and admiration.  "The only way we could even tell he'd been through hell was the nightmares.  Really bad ones, and when he had them I'd wake up and find him sitting in the closet.  It was scary, because on nights when that happened, he went from this sweet kid to some kind of wild animal - we had to just let him stay in the closet till he was over it.  My mom really wanted to help him but she didn't want to send him to a therapist, you know?  He would have looked at that as a betrayal.  So she read up on traumatized kids and just started trying stuff out on him. What finally helped was when she suggested he learn everything there was to know about wolves."

My ears perked up - finally, a potential glimpse into Tom's obsession.  "Wolves?  Why wolves?"

"Well _he_ picked wolves, she just told him to find something that interested him and read up on it till he was an expert.  That was what he chose."

So I had Chris's mom to thank for the bitemark on the back of my neck.  I thought for a minute, wondering if I dared to bring up the other thing that had been niggling at the back of my mind.  But Chris seemed to be in a sharing mood, so I took a deep breath and asked.

"Do you know if he - "  I stopped, unsure how to word this delicate question.  "Do you know how much, um... _involvement_ he had in Eric's dad's death?"

Chris raised his eyebrow and gave me a look that clearly revealed he knew exactly what I was asking, but he wasn't going to just hand it to me without making me be specific.

"What...you mean did he kill him?"

I flinched; I didn't want this to be ugly, even though I knew it would have to be if the answer was yes.  "No, I know he didn't...well, he said he didn't...and I know you were there, so I thought if anyone knows the missing parts it would be you."  I looked at him with desperation, hoping he would just take over.  "Forget I asked, this isn't important at all.  I was just curious."

"Would it make any difference in how you feel about him if you knew?"

I shook my head, staring him straight in the eyes.  "Absolutely not."

"What if he was taking the blame for someone else?"

"Is that what happened?"

He didn't answer, but I could see affirmation in his eyes.  "Sometimes we do what we gotta do.  Some of us just have to do worse things than everybody else."

I nodded, thinking about the long stretch of road between Albuquerque and San Diego.  

 

I went back to Tom's place expecting to find him sleeping, but as I let myself in I heard him talking to someone.  Not wanting to interrupt, I went in and showered, jumping and shouting _"SHIT!"_   a few minutes later when I turned and saw him standing against the sink looking at me.  "Oh my god you scared me!"

He didn't grin like I expected him to; instantly concerned, I turned the water off and stepped out, taking the towel he held out to me and wrapping myself in it.  There was no look of desire in his eyes as he watched me.

"Is something wrong?"

He had his phone in his hand and looked down at it for a moment, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.  He looked up at me again as I stood there, nervous, no idea what was going on...then he slowly raised the phone and turned the screen toward me.

It was a picture of a black haired girl with an enigmatic smile and turquoise eyes, waving.  

"She called me."

I stared for a moment, shock keeping me from responding right away.  When my brain finally reengaged I slapped my hands over my mouth, dropping my towel in the process.  "Oh my god Tom are you serious?!"

He nodded, grinning.  

"How?!"

"I did what you told me," he said, bending over to retrieve my towel, wrapping it around me again and pulling me close to him.  "I called the grandmother's attorney and left him my number, said he could give it to her or the grandmother and they could call me if they wanted.  Maybe twenty minutes later Cara called."

I took the phone from his hand while he was hugging me and looked closer at the picture.  "Did she take this while you were talking to her?"  He nodded and murmured _mhn hmm_ against my shoulder.  "Good grief, she looks exactly like you.  It's almost scary."  I looked at him as he was nuzzling into my neck, rocking me back and forth against his body.  "What did she say?"

"She wants to meet us.  She's out of school next week so I was thinking maybe we could go then."

I nodded, still staring at the picture.  "Yeah, of course - that sounds good.  Us?"

"Yeah...I told her about you.  Can you go with me?"

"Of course I can.  I have a lot of vacation time saved up, I'll turn in the paperwork tomorrow."

He hugged me closer, so tight it was starting to hurt; not wanting to push him away, I squirmed a little and turned so that I was facing him, circling my arms around his neck.  To my surprise he lifted me and slipped his hands under my bottom to hold me as he carried me out of the bathroom and deposited me on the bed, moving himself over me as he untucked my towel and laid it open to either side of me.

"All my life I have prided myself on not needing anyone," he said quietly against the bare skin of my stomach.  "But I find myself needing you more and more..."

I groaned and closed my eyes, losing myself quickly to the sensation of his lips pressing lightly around my bellybutton.  "Isn't that awful."

"It's horrible," he agreed, sighing into the curve of my hip.  "You have no idea how much I hate it."

"You haven't marked me for days...I'm beginning to think you don't despise me anymore."

"Banish the thought," he murmured as he opened his mouth and began sucking at that soft spot just inside my hipbone.  

 

 

_To be continued..._


	21. Chapter 21

 

 

I dropped two files on Laing's desk.

"I'm taking a week off for personal.  Here's the Fontaine file, you'll probably need to assign it to Belton because he's the least backlogged right now, everyone else is working on the Lestrade merger."  I turned to walk out and was almost to the door when he stopped me.

"What's the other file?"

I turned around to find him sitting exactly like he was when I entered, one elbow on the desk, his chin resting on his palm.  He hadn't bothered to even look at the file himself.

"That's the Heyworth file.  I'm done with it."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Anja, come back and sit down.  Please."

"I'm really rather rushed today - "

_"Please."_

His tone left no doubt that this wasn't a request, he was pulling rank.  I kept my face passive as I returned to his desk and sat down on the sofa across from it, expecting to be chastised for my attitude.  "Time off? Is everything alright?"

I gave him a look that said it was none of his business, but politely replied, "I'm fine.  Just taking a road trip."

His eyebrow went up in curiosity.  "Road trip?  Where to?"  Something about the quirk of his lips told me he already had it figured out, but I indulged him anyway.

"New Mexico."

He nodded a little, smiling.  "Good for you."

We sat in silence for a long, tense moment before he finally moved his eyes from mine and reached out for the second file in front of him.  "This is no longer my concern."

"It was none of your concern _ever."_

"Perhaps.  Anja, I was just looking out for you, as a co-worker and a friend.  Yes, I'll admit I had hoped it would evolve into something more, but I know now that isn't going to happen - and I respect you for sticking to your guns on that.  I apologized, and I meant it."  He gave me a sincere look, almost pleading.  "Truly."

I waited several seconds before I gave him a short nod and started to get up.  "Accepted.  Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get some stuff finished before I leave."

I heard him sigh heavily as I headed for the door again.  "Anja."

_Oh for fuck's sake._

"Yes?"

"You forgot this."  I turned to see him holding up Tom's file.  "As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't exist."  He handed it to me, his eyes softening. "Never did."

 

I walked into my house and dropped my purse and briefcase by the door, kicking my shoes off while I screamed in aggravation.  When I stopped and turned to go into the kitchen, I saw Tom standing in the doorway.

"Fuck!  Sorry...I didn't realize you were here."

He was just looking at me, a quizzical expression on his face.  "You called me, remember?  Said you wanted to sleep at your place tonight."

"Yes, I did.  So you're here why?"  I knew I was sounding churlish and rude but my day had been trying, at the very least, and he never seemed too plussed about my attitude.

He held up a frying pan.  "I'm cooking you dinner.  You sounded stressed - and I can see that it was a correct assumption, you are definitely stressed."  He put the pan on the table and came to me, taking me into his arms and hugging me close, picking me up off the floor for a moment before he set me back down and nudged his lips against mine.  "Rough day at the office?"

I didn't feel like telling him about Laing, so I just nodded and whimpered a little for sympathy.  "Mnn hmm.  What are you cooking for me?"

"Breakfast for supper.  Sound good?"

"Bacon?"

"And crepes."

I moaned against his lips and felt my hips involuntarily push toward him.  "I chose my mate well."

 

After dinner Tom took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom.  He stopped at the door and kissed me, long and lingering, sliding his hands down to the small of my back to pull me in close.

"I'm going to tuck you in and then kiss you goodnight," he said softly, kissing along my jawline.  "Unless you would like me to stay."

"Mmmm...you know I would love for you to stay."

"But...?"

"But..."  I pushed away from him a little, just enough to put a bit of space between us.  "I had a really rough day, I'm tired, I'm sort of in a bad mood, and I'm afraid we'd end up bloodying each other."

"And the problem in that is - ?"

I laughed and tugged at the front of his shirt.  "Okay.  You can stay.  If you want."

"Oh girly, you know I do."  He let his hands slide down under my bottom and squeezed, his long fingers reaching up under me to tease my soft bits through my skirt.  "After you."  He let go of me and stepped back, motioning for me to go ahead of him into the bedroom.  He swatted me on the behind as he followed, ignoring my indignant yelp as I turned and slapped his shoulder.

 

I was undressing to get in the shower and came back out to get my sleep shirt;  Tom was standing by my open dresser, reaching in to get something, his eyebrow shooting up in amusement.

"You have _toys?"_

I giggled a little, slightly embarrassed as he picked up my vibrator and switched it on with a grin.  The thing hadn't been out of my drawer in ages.  "Yeah."

He looked genuinely surprised.  The batteries sounded weak and he laughed.  "How long has it been since you used this?"

"I dunno...a while."

"Have you used it since we got together?"

"No - I haven't needed to."  I pressed up against him from behind and wrapped my arms around him, suddenly very happy that he had stayed.  Just the feel of him relaxed me.

"I'd love to use this on you," he said with a hint of mischief in his voice.  "Would you be willing to let me?"

"What - tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe.  But nothing horrifically kinky, I'm not in the mood to learn anything new right now."  I slid my hand down and squeezed his ass.  "Or maybe it could wait for another night and a better mood, because I'm naked and cranky about to take a shower.  Are you going to join me?"

"Cranky sounds fun.  You weren't even going to let me sleep over before dinner."

"You made crepes."

"Oh that's right, I forgot - you're a slut for crepes."

"Yesss I am."  I reached around him and got my nightshirt out of the drawer, dragging it over his head before I turned to strut back to the bathroom, wiggling my hips and swinging my shirt around.  I kicked the door shut and started counting;  I was at four when he kicked the door back open and stalked in with a look of mayhem darkening his face.  "Damn boy, you're as bad as Kramer busting into Jerry's apartment."  I looked him over quickly.  "And you're _naked."_

"Who's Kramer?" he growled, grabbing me by the arms and yanking me up against him.  I let him manhandle me, stifling my protest as he bent me over backwards and pushed me into the cabinet doors.

"Ouch, hey watch it oaf.  He's Jerry's neighbor."

"Who's Jerry?"  He was biting me now, his teeth nipping at my neck, my collarbone, the upslope where hard chest becomes soft breast.  I marveled for a moment at how quickly our moods had shifted from _I want to go to bed and sleep, preferably alone_ to _I'm going to bang you in the shower and you'll be lucky to survive_.  We'd done this before and it was always surprising to me every time it happened.

"Sein- never mind."  I grabbed hold of his hair and pulled hard, yanking his head back to bare his throat to me.  His long neck was so tempting, I didn't even think about it before opening my mouth and clamping down over his pulsepoint, tonguing the throbbing heartbeat as it quickened. I heard him groan my name, felt his hands squeezing my breasts, his thumbs pinching my nipples almost too hard for comfort but just deliciously hard enough to toe that line between pain and choke-on-your-own-breath goodness.  He was holding me up off the floor with my back against the cabinet and I wrapped my legs around his waist, tilting my hips up so that I was rubbing against his stomach, the soft trail of hair down his lower belly providing the most wonderful friction against my naked clit.  It was all blindingly perfect and I gave him a good solid bite to make him groan again, sucking hard at his skin, marking him hard so he'd know he was mine.

He stiffened in response, his cock thickening under me, searching for a warm soft place to squeeze into.  "Let me eat your pussy baby," he growled breathlessly, turning with me to set me down none too gently on the sink, pushing my knees apart and dropping to his own knees in front of me.  His big hands gripped my thighs and pushed them further apart, opening me wide before he dove into me, burying his face between my legs to lap at me with his tongue.   _"God you taste so good,"_ he moaned, his lips tugging at my clit then sliding down to nip and bite at my swollen labia.  "I could do this all night if my dick didn't hurt so bad."

I couldn't suppress a giggle and let my head fall back against the mirror.  "If it hurts then why don't you give it what it wants?"

"Because I am the master of my domain."

I smacked the back of his head and he laughed, the vibration from the sound rumbling through my nether regions, tickling me.  "You know who Jerry and Kramer are, you ass."

"Did you really think I didn't?"

"I never know with you."  I lay back, relaxing again, enjoying the caressing attention his tongue and lips were lavishing so generously onto my hidden bits.  He gave my clit a good hard slurp before pulling away, letting the rough scratchy stubble on his chin scrape against my sensitive inner thigh.  I flinched and jumped a little from the burn; he stood up between my legs and leaned into me, giving my intensely stimulated pussy a stinging slap with his fingers.

""What _do_ you always know with me?" he whispered seductively as he gave me another slap, just slightly harder than the first.  I yelped and my body jerked from the sting.

"You're my alpha," I groaned, biting my lower lip, my eyes shut hard in anticipation of the next slap.

"And - ?"

Another slap, followed by the sudden pressure of his hardened cock pushing up against me, slipping in between my folds lengthwise to rub itself on my wetness.

"And you will always take care of me."

"Good girl," he murmured, stepping back just far enough to line his cock up with my opening and give it a push, driving himself far into me.  I whined and cursed, arching my back and pushing my chest toward him so he would know I wanted his mouth on my breasts.  He chuckled darkly and dipped his head to suck at my nipple.  "You're such a sweet little mate, Anja," he whispered against my skin.  "Always make me be good to you, baby."

"What?"

He ignored my question and grabbed me by my butt, pulling me forward on the sink so that our stomachs were skin to skin, his cock so far into me that I squirmed in his grip to try to make him pull out a little. I gripped his shoulders tight and hung on as he started pumping into me, his fingers digging into my asscheeks, holding me still while I wriggled and halfheartedly fought him.  I didn't want him to stop, but he was just so _big,_ and the angle he was filling me from made me feel so stuffed that it was quickly becoming overwhelming.

"Do you need me to stop?" he asked suddenly;  I opened my eyes, not realizing till then that they'd been closed tightly.  He was looking down at me, his eyes dark, his jaw slack, his forehead beaded with sweat. There were bright red scratches down his chest that I didn't remember putting there.

"No...you're just...it feels like you're splitting me in two," I rasped breathlessly, falling back against the wall as he slowed and finally stilled his hips.  His hands came to my face and he cradled my cheeks in his palms.

"Don't let me get away with being rough with you if it's not what you want," he said, holding my face so that I had to look at him.  "Am I hurting you?"

I shook my head quickly, pulling his hands away.  "No, I'm okay."  My voice sounded distressed, but it was only because I had been trying so frantically to keep up with his pace. "I don't want you to stop, but I would like to get off the sink...it's hurting my bottom."

He immediately gripped my hips and lifted me off the sink, holding me against his body like a child.  He carried me to the tub and gently laid me down in it, reaching back to turn the water on so that it ran softly, warmly over my feet as he lowered himself onto me and filled me with himself again, with more tenderness and care this time.  When he was close and his breath was coming in ragged gasps peppered with grunts of effort and groans of intense sensation, he took my hand and pulled it down between us, pressing my fingers against my throbbing clit.  But instead of leaving it to me to make myself come, he entwined his fingers with mine and we rubbed together while he applied just the right pressure to make me arch up against him, our wet bodies sliding against one another, the impact of our frenzied thrusts softened by the cushion of warm liquid surrounding us.

By the time we were reaching our first climax, the water had filled the tub and nearly covered us, splashing messily onto the floor with loud splatting sounds that punctuated our moans and sighs.   _Mermaid sex,_ I thought as Tom pushed my head under, his hand squeezing the back of my neck to let me know he had me.  I held my breath till he pulled me back up again, filling my lungs with air from his mouth as he kissed me.  

"Have you ever come without being able to breathe?" he asked, his voice more devilishly silky than I'd ever heard before.  It could have been the water in my ears, but somehow I didn't think so.  Tom's voice always did interesting things when the action was about to turn freaky.

"No."  I looked up at him, still pushing my hips slowly against his, marveling at how hard he still was even though we'd just finished.  "But I can see in your eyes that you're about to teach me something new." _Even though I said I didn't want to learn anything new tonight, you sexy Dom bastard._ He grinned and dipped his face under the water to bite at my nipples, sliding down my body till there was no more room to move at the far end of the tub;  he sat up and grabbed me by my hips, turning me over and pulling me up so that I was on my hands and knees with my butt toward him.  The next thing I felt was his mouth on my pussy, going straight for my still-throbbing clit without even pausing to touch me anywhere else.  I yelped and tried to move away from him but he held me tight, sliding an arm around in front of my hips to trap me.

_"Take it, baby,"_ he murmured harshly against me as he licked and sucked at me, his tongue dipping into me, spreading my folds with his fingers to expose my sensitive inner bits to him.  "Be still, slaps hurt way worse when your skin is wet."

His thinly veiled threat had the immediate effect of flipping my switch and I made the decision to defy him without even thinking about it. Wriggling in his grasp, I dipped my hips down so the contact with his mouth was broken;  he responded by grabbing my hips, hard, and yanking me back.  "I said _be still girl,"_ he snarled as he gave my bottom a hard smack.  He wasn't kidding, the wet skin amplified the shock of the sting and I cried out, losing my balance and accidentally dunking my face under the water.  I came up spluttering and he steadied me with a wicked laugh.  "Try that again and you'll drown yourself."

"Oh god I hate you!" I yelled as he buried his face in my pussy again, promptly biting one of my plump outer folds but holding me so tightly now that I couldn't get away from him.  The chuckle that came from his throat was dark and full of malicious intent and I squirmed even though I knew there was no chance of escaping.

"Say it again," he growled.

"I hate you!"

"Say it again!"

"Oh...fuck...oh god... _I...I..."_

_"Say it!"_

His fingers were pumping in and out of both my openings now, so deeply that I forgot where I was for a moment and let my arms slip out from under me, dunking myself under the water again.  Tom pulled me up immediately, never stopping the onslaught with his fingers, holding me with his other arm as I spluttered and choked for breath.   _"Fuck Tom I love you!!"_

"That's more like it."  I felt his fingers leave me then and his cock taking their place in my pussy, pushing in hard, stretching me so suddenly and without warning that I gasped for breath, still choking from my last dunking.  His fingers moved down to my clit and rubbed me hard while his other hand slid up to the back of my neck, gripping all the way around my throat with those insanely long fingers, pushing my face perilously close to the water again.

"Catch your breath, Anja."

He slowed his thrusts to let me gather myself for a moment;  my legs were shaking and my knees were slipping on the bottom of the tub, barely keeping me above water, and I was relying completely on him to hold me up.  I knew what he was doing.  He was making me remember how much I could trust him.  I'd been trying to assume the role of caregiver lately and he wasn't liking it.  He was proving to me that despite the stresses he'd been under, he was still capable of taking care of me.  I coughed hard to clear my lungs and heard myself sobbing, which surprised me.

_"Please don't drown me,"_ I stuttered, choking on a sob and some water that splashed into my mouth.

_"Shhhh,"_ he soothed me, gently squeezing and releasing the back of my neck, pushing his hips against my bottom to slide himself slowly back and forth inside me again.  "You know I won't injure you, girly.  I'd never mate again if I lost you."

Something about his words intensified the sensations in my lower belly and I felt myself tensing;  maybe it was the combination of the fear of being hurt and the confidence that he would rescue me from it, or the anticipation of him inflicting discomfort with the knowledge that he would soothe it afterwards, but whatever it was, it was potent.  I felt my insides clenching, rising to a peak, and he sensed it at the same time I did.  "Come on baby," he encouraged me, using his fingers to urge me closer to climax.  "Almost done."

My breath was already scarce, but it started coming in strangled gasps as he edged me nearer and nearer to release.  When the rising pleasure reached its fever pitch and I bucked up against him, Tom gripped the back of my neck hard and shoved my head under the water, holding me there as my body jerked and spasmed, racked by the intense orgasm he was dragging out of me.  I held my breath and didn't struggle, my mouth open in a silent scream as he slammed into me, finishing himself;  even though I was ready for it I still ended up sucking in a mouthful of water before he pulled me up.  I came up sputtering and coughing, blinded by my wet hair over my eyes, grabbing desperately for his arms as he pulled me against him and immediately started soothing me.  I fell against him coughing, spitting water and trembling while he rocked me, patting me roughly on the back to help me cough it out.

"Breathe, baby.  Relax your lungs, breathe in slow."  

I hacked a little more until I could finally breathe freely and realized through all the noise I was making that Tom was laughing softly.  I shoved at his chest to escape the cage of his arms around me but he tightened it, keeping me close to him.  "Be still, girly - you're alright."

I swiped at my face to get the water out of my eyes.  They were burning a little and he moved my hand away, pressing my eyelids gently with his fingertips to help squeeze the excess moisture out.  Kissing the side of my head, he rocked me slowly till I relaxed against him.  He knew I was torn between being angry with him and understanding what he'd done.  "Do you want to call me something?"

"Yes," I said, sliding my arms under his to hug around his back.  I could feel his heart beating against my face and it was racing, maybe harder than my own.  We were both trembling, our climaxes still making our bodies shake.

"Then go ahead, I give you permission.  Do your worst."

"Asshole," I murmured.  It wasn't very spiteful in tone, but the anger and shock were wearing off quickly and I was finding myself curiously calm.  His arms tightened around me more and he kissed the top of my head.

"That's the best you've got?"

"Yeah.  Sorry, I don't hate you as much right now as I did a few minutes ago."

He chuckled softly.  "And why is that, do you think?"

I sighed deeply.  "Because I know what this was."

"Do you?"

"Yes...I think so."  I turned my face up to look at him for a moment, then snuggled back into his chest again.  "Proving I can trust you even when it looks iffy."

He exhaled deeply, as if overtaken by an intense relief. _I must have answered correctly._

"Good girl," he praised me quietly as he stroked my wet hair, tangling his fingers in it, pulling a bit.  "Anything I subject you to, I will save you from."

I nodded, sighing contentedly.  

 

We lay there in the cooling water for a long while, him on his back, me laying on his chest facing away from him, his long arms around me with one hand down between my legs, stroking me lazily.  It was teasing more than arousing and he let a finger slip into me from time to time, pushing into me gently and then pulling out to continue stroking me.  I felt completely sated and drowsy.

I thought about his words.   _Anything I subject you to, I will save you from._  He obviously wasn't talking about trying to drown me...there had been so much going on lately, so many upheavals in both our emotions and our actual lives, and it was all coming through him.  It was _his_ past, _his_ drama, _his_ baggage causing it all.  And he knew it, he was owning it.  He had apologized for it, but apologies are just words in the end, so he knew he had to reassure me that no matter what happened to us as a result of his past life, he wouldn't let it hurt us.  It might be scary and take us off guard, but he would pull my head out of the water just in time, even though it was him that put me there to begin with.

He was about to introduce a new person into our life, a kid neither of us had known about until just days ago.  He was suddenly a father, making me - what?  A mother?  If I was his mate, what did that make me to his child?

"The water's gone cold," he said quietly, interrupting my thoughts.  I sat up and he rubbed my back, kissing my shoulder as he nuzzled against the back of my neck.  "How are you feeling?"

I glanced back at him over my shoulder, wrapping my arms around myself.  "I'm okay.  Chilled."

He rubbed briskly up and down my arms to warm me, then stood up and stepped out of the tub.  "Floor's soaked," he said with a laugh, getting a big towel from the cabinet and holding it up for me to step into. As he wrapped it around me he kissed me again, his long wet hair falling over my face.  "I suppose we should start packing."

"Yeah.  Are you sure you don't want to fly out?  It's a long drive..."

He shook his head, his face expressionless.  "No.  Besides - you, me, road trip.  Sounds fun."

"That's what Thelma said."

"Damn straight, Louise."

I followed him out of the bathroom, shivering in my towel.  "Am I Louise?  Why am I Louise?"

"Because you're short, redheaded, and older than me.  So scoot."  He snatched my towel away from me and twisted it like he was going to pop me with it.

"If you do that I swear I will straight up murder your ass."

"See, what did I tell you?  Definitely Louise."

 

We lay in bed next to each other, not really talking, just sort of _being_.  He stroked my still damp hair and I stirred a bit, shifting on his chest to get more comfortable.

"Did you really mean that?"

"Mean what."

"That you'd never mate again if you lost me."

He tugged on my hair, but not hard.

"We're mated for life, remember?"

"Yes, but - "

_"Both_ our lives."

I didn't say anything else.  There was nothing else to say, and even if there was, nothing else would have felt right.  What did feel right was just laying there with him, listening to his heart beat, smelling his warm scent as it reestablished itself on his skin after our long soak.  My fingers found their way down his side to his hip, searching out the jagged scar hidden amidst the swirling pattern of his tattoo.  I touched it, committing its length and width and all its bumpy thickness to memory.  I didn't know why it seemed an important thing to do, but it was part of him, and I was willing to bet it held a place in his memories that I hadn't been allowed to see yet.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	22. Chapter 22

 

 

We were almost a day down the road when Tom looked over at me and put his hand on my neck, stroking under my hair.  We had talked, though not about much...I could tell he was stressed, nervous about the end result of this trip, heading toward the unknown down a road that he would really rather have left untraveled.  I was unbearably curious as to why he had insisted on driving instead of flying, but had asked him twice about it and gotten a warning look and a closed mouth both times.  I knew he had his reasons, but he wasn't planning on sharing them with me.

We had stopped to eat, pee, and stretch our legs a few times, but in between we listened to the radio and took turns driving, not doing much conversing.  So it was a little bit jolting when he suddenly gave my neck a squeeze and started talking.

"That scar on my hip," he said from out of nowhere, pulling his hand off my neck and resting it on the gearshift.  "I got that the night Eric's dad died."

I looked over at him, shocked at his suddenly free tongue, but refrained from saying anything - one thing I'd learned about Tom was that questioning him usually made him clam up.  Letting him volunteer information, though it didn't happen often, usually lent better results. He stared ahead for a while before finally glancing over at me again.  "I know you're curious about it...you're always touching it."

"Maybe I like scars."

"Philloeskhara."

I did the eyebrow thing that he was always doing to me, but it wasn't near as good as his and he laughed at me.  "Scar fetish."

I rolled my eyes.  "You just made that up, didn't you?  I bet it doesn't even mean anything, you just know I won't question it because you think I'm scared of you."

He give me a disapproving look and didn't say anything.

"I don't have a scar fetish," I insisted, pouting now, looking out the window.  I could feel him staring at me but was determined not to look at him again.

"I know you're not scared of me."

"Well good, because I'm not."

He chuckled a little.  "You want me to go on?

"You know I do."  I pulled my feet down off the dash and wriggled around in my seatbelt until I was facing him.  "Without the made up words."

"It's Latin.  Phillo is love of something, skhara is scar.  But you're right...it's not really a true word, I just put the two together."

I shot him a sideways glare.  "I knew it.  You've been bullshitting me since the day we met, haven't you?"

"How else was I supposed to get into your pants?"

We both stared ahead for a long while, neither of us saying anything, and I thought for a moment that he'd changed his mind about revealing the source of the scar and we would just sit in tense silence for the next fifty miles until one of us got hungry.  One step forward, two steps back...it seemed like this was always how it was with him.  To take the edge off, I reached for the stereo, but he grabbed my hand and pulled it to his mouth to kiss my fingers.

"You know Emma was living with Eric's family," he started, his voice slightly hesitant.  "I'd been trying to figure out a way to get her out of that house, but she was scared...Eric's dad was a world class dick, on top of his other... _issues_.  She couldn't just walk out and I couldn't go in guns blazing.  But I sweet talked Eric's mum into letting me see her."

"Sounds like you.  How did you do that?"

"Just told her I was her brother and that I'd come two thousand miles to see her."

"And she just let you in?"

"Yep."

I shook my head; so typical, Tom charming a woman to the point where she'd be willing to help him get anything he needed.  It seemed to be his greatest survival skill in life.

"So what happened?"

"I was talking to Emma, telling her I was going to get her out of there, and she started getting really agitated...it was obvious she was already starting to slip, she had scars all over her arms and legs from cutting herself."  He looked angry for a moment, then his face softened and he swallowed hard;  I watched his adam's apple go up and down slowly, avoiding looking at his eyes.  "While I was talking to her, the dad came home from work...he flipped out, started yelling, threatening me...Emma panicked, there was a lot of noise and she just lost it...while I was distracted looking at her, he grabbed me around the neck and started choking me.  We were in the kitchen.  Emma grabbed a knife from the sink and tried to stab him to get him off me, but we all went down in a tangle and the knife hit me instead."  He rubbed his hip absently. "While we were trying to get up, she went at him again and I stood up in front of her; I didn't want her killing this guy, he deserved to die but she didn't need the burden of being the one to do it.  I blocked her and she knocked me backwards into him and he just...there was a window behind us, one of those big bay windows with lots of glass.  He went through it."

He was still rubbing his hip and I watched his fingers; they were shaking, just slightly, but his voice was steady and he gave no other outward sign of not being completely in control of himself.

"So...Emma...killed him?"

"No."  His voice was forceful, scolding, and he shook his head quickly.  Even now his kneejerk reaction was to stand up for her.  "It was an accident.  She was defending me from him."

I didn't say anything, just waited for him to continue when he was ready.  It was several long moments before he started talking again, and when he did his voice was quieter, less steady.

"When she saw all the blood - the glass had cut him up pretty bad, and I was covered in my own blood from the knife wound - she completely lost it.  The doctors called it a psychological break.  She couldn't handle what she was seeing, so her mind fixed it to where she wouldn't see it anymore.  I guess you could say she left and went to a happier place.  I was the last thing she saw before she broke...so now...I'm her trigger. When she sees me, it forces her to remember that night and everything that led up to it."

The look on his face was carefully blank and I knew he was keeping it that way for me.  It reminded me of that day in my office when he'd first told me _he_ killed Eric's father, with the straightest poker face I'd ever seen in my life.  I held my hand out over the gearshift and he took it.

"She was removed from their home of course, and sent somewhere else for a couple of weeks until she was just too unmanageable.  She kept cutting herself until one night she hit an artery and almost bled out. That was when she went into psychiatric care.  She's been there ever since. When Alicia left me that money, I had her moved into Stonebrook so she'd be near me...and it's the best care facility in the state."

He paused and I suddenly remembered my conversation with Chris.  

"Chris said you were taking the blame for someone else."

"Did he?  I guess...maybe I did, with Eric, all these years.  I don't think it's ever crossed his mind that it could have been anyone except me. Chris was there that night, he went with me and was keeping Eric occupied in another room while I talked to Emma - they knew each other from school.  When all the noise started, Eric came in just in time to see his dad go through the window.  I'm sure to him it looked like I pushed him.  Chris came in first though, he saw it all, and when the police came he told them Mr Lensher tripped and fell through the window.  My cut was from the broken glass.  Not hard to make it look that way. Eric of course insisted it was otherwise, but Mrs Lensher confirmed that he'd been drinking before he came home.  Nobody ever made any assumptions about Emma having any part in it."

"Does she know she...does she know what really happened?"

"I don't know.  I hope not.  I sometimes think she does, when she has her rare moments of lucidity.  It's then that she stops screaming at me and starts to cry."

He was still holding my hand and I gave his a squeeze.

"You're making sure she's well taken care of.  You're doing right by her."

He nodded and I was happy to see him give himself some credit.  He was too hard on himself where Emma was concerned.

 

We stopped at a rest stop so I could pee and get a drink; I noticed there was a bus platform and asked Tom if he'd been through here before. He just nodded and held the door open for me.  I hadn't been expecting him to give me a running narrative of the cross country journey of his fifteen year old self, but his staunch determination not to tell me _anything_ about it was making me think the worst - that maybe it really had been a horrible experience, that maybe while I was in the bathroom at all these various pitstops he was outside pissing on the places where he'd slept.  It seemed like something Tom would do.  He was all about the symbolism.

When I came out of the bathroom I felt immediately that something wasn't right...there was something in the air, an electrically charged sensation of _something is about to happen_ and I started looking around frantically for Tom, knowing in my gut that it had something to do with him.  The store was empty except for me and the clerk, so I pushed through the doors to the walkway between the store and the bus stop and ran outside.  He was there, standing with his back against the bus route poster on the wall, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets with his eyes closed.  I smiled when I saw him...until a man stepped out of the shelter behind him and strolled over to put his hand on Tom's shoulder, close to his neck.  My stomach felt suddenly cold and I knew this wasn't going to be good.

In a flurry of motion so quick that my brain barely even registered it as more than a quick turn, Tom grabbed the man by the wrist and twisted his arm around behind him, slamming him up against the wall with so much force that the man yelped in pain as much as surprise.  I yelled and ran to them, grabbing Tom by the back of his pants, trying to pull him away.  It was no good though, his eyes had gone dark and he was snarling.

_"Don't...EVER...fucking touch me!!"_

The man's nose was bleeding from hitting the wall, but Tom wasn't letting him go.  I kept pulling at him but couldn't budge him;  big as Tom was, well over six feet and strong as a clydesdale, my efforts quickly proved completely ineffectual.  I'd never felt smaller and more powerless than in that moment while I was trying to get him to even notice me, hitting his back and yelling to get his attention off his victim.

"Tom please!  Stop, the clerk's going to call the police!   _TOM!!"_

He finally stopped grinding the man's head into the wall and looked at me without recognition.  It was unnerving, having his eyes glance over me like he'd never even seen me before.  I pulled at his elbow and he released the man's neck, stepping back as he slowly started to calm.

"Look at me," I ordered him quietly.  "Look at me Tom.  Don't look at him, look at me."

He obeyed and I could see that he was struggling to get himself under control.  His hands were shaking and his pupils were completely blown wide, blackening his irises.  The man slipped out of his grasp and staggered to the bench a few feet away, falling onto it, holding his hands over his bleeding face.

"What the fuck man, I'm sorry!" he yelled when I looked over at him.  "I thought you were working!"

The corner of Tom's mouth clinched up into a snarl and he tried to shove past me to get at him again, but I grabbed him around the waist and put all my weight against him.  "Stop!!  Leave him Tom!"  I didn't understand what had happened but I knew I needed to get him out of here quickly.  "Lets just go, come on...please Tom, come with me."  I started trying to urge him to turn and walk away with me, but he wasn't ready to go yet.  He was glaring at the man with the most bone chilling look of pure hatred and murderous intent that I'd ever seen in my life.

"The next time you pick someone up that actually _is_ working," he hissed, taking a menacing step toward the man, "you better fucking well treat them right.  You feed them and take them where they need to go and you give them a warm place to sleep and you make sure they're safe for the night...or god help you if I ever hear otherwise."

The man nodded, cowering on the bench.

I took Tom's arm and pulled him one last time to get him to leave.  He finally turned away and followed me, letting me lead him by the hand.

 

"I don't like anyone I don't know to touch me."

"I know.  It's okay."

"Sorry."

"It's okay baby.  I get it."  I looked over at him, worried about his frame of mind.  He hadn't spoken for almost an hour, sitting in the passenger seat staring out the window, lost in faraway thoughts while I drove. "Can I ask what provoked that?"

He had his fingers in his mouth, biting his nails absently, never pulling his eyes away from whatever he was looking at through the window.  "I had my eyes closed when he put his hand on me.  Spooked me."

"That can't have been all it was.  Did he say something to you?"  He ignored me, but I didn't feel like letting him just blow me off - I had just watched him assault someone, and suspiciously, his victim had never made a move to call the police or yell for help.  "He said he thought you were working.  What does that mean?  Did he think you were a - "  I wasn't sure what word to use...hooker?  Prostitute?  Rent boy?  And then something very unsettling occurred to me.  "Did someone pick you up there when you came through here before?"

He slowly rolled his head on the back of the seat to look at me.  After a long silent moment of just staring at me with half closed eyes, he finally turned back to the window with a mirthless little laugh.  "Yeah. Someone picked me up there."

"Then why the hell did we stop there?!" I demanded, slowing down to pull over.  Tom saw that we were decelerating and looked over at me.

"Don't stop the car."

"I want you to tell me what that was all about!"

_"Don't. stop. the car!"_

His tone left nothing to interpretation and I knew I needed to obey, but I was mad.  He'd yelled at me and he wasn't telling me what the hell was going on, and I felt like I deserved to know.  He was looking out the window again though, obviously having no intention of paying me any more mind, so I took a deep breath to calm down and just kept driving.

 

About an hour later Tom finally spoke again.  "Pull over, I'll drive."

I did as he said, getting out to switch sides with him.  It was starting to get dark and the sun was hanging at the horizon line, all orange and purple and pink.  It was breathtaking and I stopped at the front of the car to lean on the hood and just look at it.  A minute later Tom joined me, slipping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me against him.  "I'm sorry I yelled at you," he said quietly, leaning down to kiss my head. "I'm really sorry."

I glanced up at him, thinking maybe he expected me to say it was okay, but he wasn't even looking at me; he was staring at the sunset and looking like he was anywhere but here.  

 

We stopped to eat, then found a hotel for the night.  We were tired both physically and emotionally, so after we'd taken turns showering we fell into bed and crawled to each other in the dark, cocooning into each other's arms, whispering _"Sorry"_ quietly to each other before falling quickly asleep to the sound of our mingled breathing and the rain that was starting to fall.  

 

In the morning, Tom came clean on the previous day's events.

"This is a rough place for me to be," he said quietly, his head bent over his pancakes in the diner across the road from our hotel.  He didn't look at me and I didn't try to make him.  "The stuff Alicia taught me - well lets just say, that bus stop was the first place I put it into practice."

"Why did we go there?"

He shook his head a little, indicating he didn't really know.  "Not sure.  It felt like something I should do...I dunno, closure maybe.  Come back fourteen years later with a good life under my belt, a full stomach, money in my pocket, beautiful wife next to me and no dents in my ribs from sleeping on the ground.  Show this place that I made it."  He rubbed his hands over his face, pushing his fingertips into his eyelids for a moment before exhaling loudly.  "Didn't count on some fucker propositioning me."

"Apparently it's a common place for that sort of thing...that guy seemed to think just because you were there - "

He looked up at me, his eyes wide and almost innocent.  He looked so much like a little boy in that moment, I almost reached out and stroked his hair.  But I didn't know if I should touch him or not, so I kept my hands under the table, my fingers digging into my knees to remind me to be strong for him and forget the sick panic I was starting to feel.  This was a bad place...Tom shouldn't be here...but he needed to be. And he needed me to be beside him while he did this, whatever it was.  "I don't know much about this kind of stuff, but...you weren't even doing anything.  So he must have just been there...you know... _looking_ for someone."

He finally let his face break into a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes and I could tell he found my inexperience only mildly amusing.  "Are you saying I don't look like a manwhore?"

"What?  No, of course you don't...I mean...well you could be...you're kinda skinny so maybe he thought you were a junkie or something before he got close enough to really see you."

He sat back, laughing.  "It's okay baby, I know what you're saying. And yes, places like that are...common pickup spots.  But they're also places that get you from one place to another, so the people you'll find there probably just need to get someplace else."  His gaze shifted past my head, out into the desert behind us.  "Never decide someone is bad because of what they're doing.  You don't know why they're doing it."

I fidgeted in my chair for a moment, feeling horribly uncomfortable.  Nothing I said was sounding right and although Tom wasn't taking offense at any of it, I still felt stupid.  I'd never seen this part of humanity before, it was alien to me and the more I saw of it, the sicker I felt that Tom had gone through it, so young and so alone, bravely doing what he had to do.  But looking at him now, no one would ever guess he wasn't just some well-off doctor's rebellious son, growing his hair long to spite his mother and wearing punk clothes to embarrass his buttoned-down dad.  

"It's all reminding you of her, too...isn't it."

He nodded, but there was nothing in his expression to indicate that the recollection was unwelcome.  And then I realized - it wasn't the forced memory of Alicia that was doing this to him.  It was this stretch of road.  The first time he'd had to let a stranger touch him.  It was making him nervous and he didn't know how to deal with it.  He had put that all behind him years ago and now here he was, back where it happened.  But it had been his idea to drive instead of flying...had he _wanted_ to face it?  Had it always bothered him and this was his chance to put it all to rest, once and for all?  Had he brought me along as his backup in case it was too much?  Or did he just want me to see the rest of him, the part I'd missed by coming into his life after this was all finished...?

"You're deep in thought.  What's going on in that beautiful head?"

I smiled at him, reaching across the table to put my hand over his, squeezing his fingers.  "The wildflowers are so pretty.  I've never seen that kind before."

He looked out the window at the endless fields of purple blossoms, and nodded.

 

Hours later I woke up with a start, taking a few seconds to remember where I was.  Car, road trip, Tom is driving, The Cure is on the radio, giant cactus just went past the window.  I stretched and looked over at him and suddenly remembered what he'd said - _beautiful wife next to me._ Had he really said that or did I dream it?

He glanced over at me and smiled.  "Have a good nap?"

"Not bad.  This car rumbles, it's relaxing."

"I could take the muffler off and make it really fun for you."

"Why, what happens when you take the muffler off?"

He raised an eyebrow, giving me a wicked little smirk.  "The rumble turns into a dirty shimmy."  He reached over and put his hand on my thigh, sliding it up till his fingers were wedged into where my leg creased into my hip.  "The sort you feel right up into your - "

"Okay, yeah I get it.  I've ridden on the back of Ewan's Harley before."

"Let me guess - he took the long bumpy way around town the night I asked him to take you home."

I shot him a nasty look.  "You told him to and you know it."

He grinned and I suddenly felt a lot better about everything...it was funny how one change in Tom's expression could either make or break my entire outlook.  I pulled his hand out of my lap and held it up against my neck, snuggling into his palm.  "Did you call me your wife?"

His smile widened and his fingers tightened around mine.  "I believe I did.  Is that okay with you?"

I nodded, closing my eyes as I felt his thumb stroking the wide band on mine.  "It's fine.   _Husband."_

 

 

The next time I woke up, Tom was talking to someone on his phone.  The GPS was announcing _Take left, ten miles to destination._ He looked over and saw that I was awake, smiling at me happily as if the last two hundred miles of tense silence hadn't even happened.

"We're almost there, baby."

I stretched and groaned loudly, squinting at the bright sun coming up on the horizon.  We had left our hotel during the night, Tom harassing me out of a deep sleep telling me he wanted to get back on the road, half carrying me drowsily to the car and buckling me in while I whined about being sleepy.  "I know baby, you can sleep in the car," he had said to me, kissing my forehead and tucking my jacket against my neck.

_Arriving at destination in six point four miles._

"Cara says hi and Mrs Stephenson says she hopes we're hungry," he said with a big smile.  It was amazing how different he suddenly looked. Most of the trip he'd worn either a faraway blank expression or a silent scowl, but now he was Tom from the pub again, with the sweetly serene face I associated with him the most.  It was beautiful, it was a relief, and most of all it was so very very  _welcome._

"I'm starved," I said, returning his smile, happy that this part of the trip was almost over.  Next time we would fly even if I had to insist, cry, make threats.  He'd done his little pilgrimage, or whatever this was...and hopefully now he could close the book on this part of his past.  It had been hard on him, but I knew it had been necessary, at least in his mind.

_Turn left to destination._

 

The first time Tom and Cara saw each other, they looked like they'd somehow always known each other existed.

I stood back and waited, knowing they needed this moment between them without anyone else in it.  It was bizarre, looking at the two of them, face to face like a slightly altered mirror image, one side masculine, the other feminine.  She was tall like him, willowy and light skinned, with the same blue-black hair and sharp cheekbones and liquid aquamarine eyes.  Like two parts of the same person, staring disbelieving at itself, relieved to finally find what had been missing.

And then Tom's hands twitched, just slightly, and in the same moment he and Cara both raised their arms and smiled at each other.

"Hello," she said as she stepped into his embrace, her arms going around him to hold him tight.  There was nothing like two strangers in the way she hugged him; it was as if she'd always known him.  Tom's back was stiff for just a moment, his hands in the air behind Cara's back, seemingly not knowing where to put them...then he visibly relaxed and his arms went around her, his head coming down to press his face into her hair.  I knew he was inhaling her scent, committing it to memory, probably finding comfort in what I presumed would be the familiarity of it.

"Hello," he murmured back.

 

"I'm Tricia," Mrs Stephenson said warmly, holding her hand out to me.  "Come inside, everyone."  She pulled me forward and I stepped around Tom and Cara where they were still hugging.  I could feel my eyes tearing up and noticed Tricia was wiping at her eyes too.  "It's so wonderful to finally meet the two of you, Cara's been so excited to meet you and her dad."

 _Her dad._  It was real now, not just something we were going to check out.  I looked back as they were extricating themselves from each other's arms and Cara's eyes came straight to me, a big smile on her face. "And you're Anja.  He talks about you all the time, I feel like I know you already."  She came briskly to me and hugged me, giving me a kiss on the cheek.  I looked over her shoulder at Tom and saw him smiling, a broad, genuine smile that I hadn't seen in such a long time.  Tricia was pulling him by the arm, urging him to come into the house.

 

We sat around the diningroom table eating breakfast, everyone talking, asking questions and getting to know one another.  I kept catching myself staring at Tom and Cara, astounded at how much they looked like one another.  So far as I knew, there was no one else in Tom's family that looked like him - I'd seen pictures of Emma and their mom in the Heyworth file and they were both petite blondes who resembled each other more than Tom.  But his genetics had definitely carried over to Cara.

"What grade are you in at school?" Tom asked as Tricia loaded more eggs onto his plate.

"Oh I'm not in _school_ school anymore - I'm taking early college courses, they let me graduate high school last year."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm studying to be a veterinarian on an honors scholarship.  Not the dogs and cats kind though."  She spoke with such ease, so completely comfortable with us there, like we weren't total strangers sitting at her table.  "I want to work with wild animals mostly."

Tom leaned back in his chair, a wide smile across his face.  "That's really cool," he said, putting no effort into concealing how proud and slightly surprised he was.  Not only did she look like him, she had a lot of his same interests as well.  I realized with a little bit of amusement that he'd left school at the same age she did, though regrettably for very different reasons.

"So what do I call you?" she asked, staring hard at him.  It was the same soul-rending stare that I'd seen Tom use so many times, mostly on me. "Do I call you Tom, or dad...I feel weird calling you by your name but _dad_ seems a little strange too."

Tom thought for a moment, then shrugged a little.  "I guess you can call me whatever feels right to you."

Cara stared at him for a few long moments, sizing him up, thinking.  Finally she shrugged the same way he had, and sat back in her chair.  "I think I'm gonna call you dad.  I like the way it makes your eyebrow go up."  She turned her attention to me and said, "So I guess that makes you my stepmother.  This is awesome, I got a whole family in one shot."  She smiled a wide smile that was so much like Tom's that it was almost unnerving.  "It's always been just me and gramma till now."

I was speechless for a second, completely taken off guard.  I had only thought about this briefly and then had dismissed it, but now here it was, looking me straight in the face.  Tom was looking at me too, and though he was smiling at me, I felt my face going hot and my palms getting clammy.

"I...yeah, I suppose it does."  I looked at Tom for help but he was just grinning at me, and I knew he was loving the fact that this new, huge, potentially major part of his life was opening wide enough to include me.  It did feel warm and inviting, amazingly, and something inside me clicked. _This - this made me and Tom a real thing, an actual family.  A real, honest to god, lifetime relationship that involved others, not just ourselves.  We were officially official.  We were part of a family that both included us **and** belonged to us._

Tricia was sitting silently at the far end of the table with her hand over her mouth, looking every bit like I was feeling.  I got the distinct impression that she was about to start crying, and I knew if she did, I would too.

"Let me clear these dishes," I said, standing up to break the intensely emotional moment that was hanging over the table.  She seemed grateful for the intervention and stood up to help me.  Tom started to get up too, but I waved a hand at him and reached over to get his plate.  He grabbed my hand and kissed it, smiling up at me with so many things shining in his eyes - love, gratitude, appreciation, pride.  I don't think I've ever felt happier in my entire life than I did right that moment.  I also don't think I'd ever loved him more.

 

When Tricia and I rejoined them, they had moved to the livingroom and were on the sofa, chatting and laughing about something.  Tom had his phone out and was showing her pictures of the pub and our friends; I watched over his shoulder for a moment as he scrolled through, looking for a specific picture of the gang, and I noticed at least eight pictures of me right in a row.  I had never realized he took so many. I came around and sat on the other side of Cara and Tom's arm immediately went around behind her to rest his hand on the back of my neck.

"So are you two married?" Cara asked, staring at my left hand, obviously looking for a ring.  "I mean, you act married, you seem like you are." She looked at Tom and he looked at me.  "Please say you're married because you are my absolute ideal as far as what a real couple should be like."  She pulled my hand up and rubbed her fingers on the shiny silver band on my thumb.

"Well," Tom said as she reached across and took his hand too, comparing his band to mine.  "We're the equivalent."  He winked at me.  "The _better_ equivalent."

"Equivalent?"

"We're mated."

"For life?  You mean like wolves?"

I laughed - that was exactly what Laing had said to me when I told him, and the same tone of voice too.  Tom nodded, grinning happily while Cara pulled our hands together and tapped our bands against each other.  They made a strangely satisfying clicking sound when they touched.

"Exactly like wolves."

"That's cool.  Wolves are incredible, they're my favorite - I should take you out to see mine."

Tom's head jerked up and I immediately sensed his excitement.  "Your what?"

"My wolves."

"You have... _wolves?"_

"Well they're not mine, actually - I just look after them.  I'm doing a summer internship program at the wildlife preserve and the wolves are my project."

 _Oh my god._ This was unbelievable.  I could feel the excitement coming off of Tom - his eyes were bright and he was anxiously rubbing his hands up and down on his thighs, something I'd seen him do in moments of great stress to calm himself. "Can we go see them now?"

"Sure, why not."  She turned to yell over her shoulder at Tricia.  "Gramma, we're going out to the preserve, okay?"

Tricia stuck her head into the room and smiled.  "Going to show them your wolves?"  Tom was already up and pulling his boots on by the door and holding my purse up to hurry me.  "Have a good time, I'll have lunch ready when you get back."

I raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "Are you not going with us?"

She shook her head, waving her hand dismissively.  "I can tell you're good people.  I'm not worried."  She gave me a smile and turned to kiss Cara on the cheek.  "Be back by one sweetie."

 

It was a ten minute drive to the preserve and when we got there Tom was so excited he couldn't be still;  he was fidgeting like a little kid while Cara unlocked the gates, asking question after question about the work she did, wanting to know everything.  We walked down a long hill to the wolf enclosure and I held his hand tightly, trying to keep him calm, but I could actually feel him shaking as we got closer to the paddocks. Finding out his daughter loved wolves was one thing, a person could understand that based on the nature of heredity and genetics alone - but to find out her life's ambition was to work with wolves in the wild and that she was already well on her way to accomplishing that goal was just almost too much to comprehend.  Tom was beaming...there was finally someone in the world just like him, and I could see the weight of his past just falling off his heart.

"Oh my god, look at that."  He let go of my hand and went on ahead of us, heading for a fenced clearing where a wolf was standing, cautiously watching us approach.  Cara fell back next to me and laughed a little, watching his obvious excitement.

"So he likes wolves too, huh?"

"Oh man, you have no idea."  I didn't tell her that wolves were the reason we were together...that was a story for when she was much, _much_ older.

By the time we caught up, Tom was on his knees at the fence, poking his fingers through the chain links, talking quietly to the wolf, urging her to come closer.  She looked him straight in the eyes and sniffed the air for a moment, then lowered her head and approached him, stretching her neck out to just barely touch his fingers with her nose.

"She trusts him, wow," Cara whispered.  "That's Raksha, she's very suspicious of people."

"Raksha?" Tom asked quietly, never taking his eyes off the curious wolf.  "Mowgli's mother?"

"Yeah.  All the wolves have mythological, literary, or historical names."

"Who's Raksha?" I asked, feeling a bit like the dumb kid in the class.

"Kipling..." Tom whispered, turning his hand, letting the wolf sniff him.  "The Jungle Book - Raksha was the alpha female, she raised the mancub with her own pups."  He grinned, beaming, as the female shot her tongue out and licked the back of his hand.  "Ahh look at you, you beautiful girl."

"We've got an Akela too, he's mated to Raksha."  She looked at me and whispered, "The alpha male, Mowgli's adopted dad."  I nodded, grateful that she was willing to clue me to these details so that I wouldn't feel left out.  She had a kind heart like her dad.

"That's awesome," Tom whispered.  He looked over at her, squinting in the sun.  "Do you have a Fenrir?"

"We do," Cara nodded, turning to follow the fence line up the hill toward the rest of the compound.  "But he's a bastard, he'll take your hand off if you touch the fence."

Tom slowly turned his hand, touching Raksha lightly on the top of her muzzle with one fingertip.  "There's a pretty girl...good girl."  His voice was soft and soothing and the wolf seemed to be responding the way most women did to him, with doe-eyed submission.  Her head was tipped to one side and she looked like she wanted him to scratch her throat.  "Can we see him?"

"Yeah, he's at the top of the hill.  But I warn you, he's always looking for any excuse to start Ragnarok."

Tom laughed and withdrew his fingers from the fence, standing up and grinning at me.  "She knows her mythology."

"Imagine that," I smiled back, slipping my arm around his waist to follow Cara up the hill.

 

Fenrir was old and grizzled and every bit as cranky as she told us he would be; he came out of his enclosure specifically to snarl at us, lowering his head to the ground and backing up when he saw Tom.

"Don't get too close, he sometimes charges the fence and he can get his muzzle through enough to bite if you're touching it," Cara warned as Tom moved closer, very slowly, with his hands out in front so the wolf could see them.  The snarling turned to a threatening growl and Tom stopped, talking quietly.

"I'm too tall, aren't I old man."  He slowly went down to his knees, close to the fence, putting himself at the wolf's level, bending until the animal didn't have to look up to stare into his eyes.  "There, is that better? I know this is your territory...I'm not here to steal your women, I promise." He reached for the fence very slowly.

_"Dad - "_

_"Tom - "_

Cara and I both spoke at the same time but he ignored both of us.  "You're not so bad, are you old man?  Just seen a lot and lived a lot and now you're tired and don't have the patience for everybody's shit...I know how you feel."  He sat down on the ground, folding his long legs up so he wouldn't seem so imposingly big.  

I looked at Cara.  She was watching closely, the same look on her face that Tom had on his.  Absolute enrapturement.  It was an amazing thing to watch, the two of them, just seamlessly melding into one another's lives, completely accepting of each other without question or judgement. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but I knew it wasn't this.  This was good...this was as close to perfect as anything I'd ever seen, and I was glad to be a part of it.  Both Cara and Tom had opened their new relationship to include me, and there was no place else in the world that I wanted to be.

 

We stayed till nearly one o'clock and I reminded Tom that Tricia had said to be back by then.  He stepped up behind me and slipped his arms around my stomach, leaning in to kiss the top of my head as he pressed up against my back.  I leaned back into him and immediately felt... _dear god._  "Tom!" I whispered harshly, pushing my elbow into his stomach as I looked around to make sure Cara wasn't in hearing distance.  She was locking the main paddock gate, talking to one of the wolves that was curiously watching her.  "That's hardly appropriate right now - and don't you dare even try to convince me that's for me, I know it's all about Fenrir."  

He chuckled into my hair, pulling me back tighter against him.  "I know. Walk in front of me."

"Oh my god, you've got a boner for a wild animal and you expect me to hide it for you?  Screw you!"

He put his hand over my mouth and I slammed back into him, trying to get away, but he held on and stumbled backwards on the low scrubby brush that was growing all over the place.  We fell on the ground laughing, kicking around in the dirt as he dug his long fingers into my ribs and started tickling me.  

"Okay kids, time to go home," Cara called out, heading for the car.  I slapped Tom in the front of the pants and escaped before he could snag me again with those freakishly long arms.

"Behave!" I yelled over my shoulder at him as I stomped away.

I was halfway to the car when something hit me on the back of the leg and I turned to see Tom bent over, picking up little pebbles from the ground.  He launched one at me and pegged me on the butt, hard, and it stung so bad that I jumped around yelping.  Cara was already at the car, leaning on the door and laughing at us.  "He seems so young," she said.  "Like a big kid."

"He is a big kid," I said with irritation as another rock hit me on the back of the knee.  "An enormous brat!"  Tom took aim and drew back to throw the next rock and I ran around the other side of the car, daring him to go ahead and throw it.  I knew he wouldn't risk hitting his car.

"How old is he, anyway?" Cara asked, following me to the other side to get in.  "He really seems a lot younger than I imagined him."

"He's twenty nine."  I watched the shocked look come across her face as she did the math, then started the car and revved the engine a little to get Tom moving.  He was bent over looking at a little yellow bloom on a wild cactus, completely lost in his own world and wanting to explore everything.  I almost hated to hurry him - it had been a while since I'd seen him this happy and his curiosity was adorable.

"So he was...my age...when I, um, _happened."_

"Yeah...seems kinda strange, doesn't it."  I looked out the window to see if he was coming yet.  He was still messing around looking at the cacti. "But he's had an extraordinary life, Cara.  There are things you'll learn to overlook, and once you know him, they won't even matter."

She nodded, watching him through the window.  "It's not his end of it that weirds me out.  It's my mom.  She was in her late thirties when I was born.  And he was maybe fifteen by then?"  She shook her head as if to clear it of the disturbing realization.  "I guess she liked 'em young."

"It wasn't like that," I said quickly, hoping I wouldn't have to be the one to explain what had happened between them.  "He'll tell you about it one day, I'm sure.  But he's still having a hard time with it himself...give him time, and just - just don't judge your mom too harshly."  I looked past her and saw Tom finally coming toward the car in that long legged gait of his, his jeans covered in dust, looking like he didn't have a care in the world.  "We all do what we have to do...some of us just have to do worse things than everyone else."

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	23. Chapter 23

 

Over lunch, Cara and Tom continued venting their curiosity about each other with question after question, their inquiring natures latching onto the newness of each other with an almost obsessive interest;  Tricia and I sat back and let them do their fourteen years of catching up, both of us enjoying watching dad and daughter become friends, keeping quiet at our end of the table so as not to intrude.  It was heartwarming and amusing, the way Cara shot off rapidfire questions at Tom, so anxious to learn about who she was underneath what she knew of herself.  Tom did his best to answer everything she asked, opening up to her more freely than he ever had to me.  Obviously I hadn't been asking the right questions...or really any questions at all, for which the blame was entirely mine.  Tom had told me more than once that he would tell me anything, though he volunteered nothing without the right questions being asked.  The Olivetti and Heyworth files had provided me with more than I wanted to know and I was still reeling a bit from the information overload - I was more comfortable getting my facts from the impersonal stacks of paper and coldly typed documents than I was with asking a living, breathing, emotional human being, so I took what I had and didn't ask for more.  But Cara's questions were coming from a deep seated need to find out something, anything, about who she was.  I couldn't begrudge her some easy answers.

"So why do we look like this?" she asked, motioning toward her face and then pointing at his.  "Your mom and sister don't look like us?"

"Mum's people were from Scotland, that's where we get our light skin and eyes."  He spoke without care, as if revealing these details really meant nothing to him other than the conveyance of fact.  "Dad was Cree. That's where we get the rest."

Now _this_ was interesting.  I stared at Tom, in something of a state of mild shock.  I had never known this about him, he'd never said anything about it - but to be fair again, I'd never asked.  "You're indian?"

Cara perked up with sudden interest as well.  "Seriously, we're Cree?  Like, American Indian?"

"Not American, no - French Canadian.  Saskatchewan, specifically."  He took a swallow of his soda and tapped the bridge of his nose, where it was slightly crooked.  "That's where we get the nose...sorry about that."

This was truly a surprise...Tom was half Saskatchewan indian?  I'd assumed he was pure British, although I didn't really know why that had been my assumption other than the fact that he spoke with a surprisingly pedigreed London accent.  He didn't look particularly English, whatever such a thing would even mean.  But now that I knew about the Cree, I could see it all over his face - the high sharp cheekbones, the sharply defined jawline, the slightly bent nose.  All that incredibly black hair.  And his lack of ability to grow a decent beard - he only shaved every few days, it was a joke between us that I went through ten times as many razors as he did.  I'd always teasingly insisted it was because he had such a baby face.

Cara was obviously finding all this incredibly exciting.

"Is that where our black hair comes from?"

"Yeah.  Mum's a blonde.  Dad had black like us."

"And is that why we're tall?"

"Not sure...that's through dad I guess, but I don't know if the rest of his people were tall or not.  He was around six four."

She nodded, sizing him up as she peeled an orange.  I found myself doing the same thing, looking at him closely, noticing how some things about him made sense now.  I'd seen the pictures of his mother and sister in his file, they were small and blonde and neither of them looked anything like him, to the point where I was tempted to ask if he was adopted.  Now I just wanted to hug him, remembering back to that morning when we'd arrived and he'd first seen Cara in person.  The amazed smile that lit up his face, the look of disbelief at seeing someone who was so much a mirror image of himself.  I imagined the fact that he looked nothing like the rest of his family had served to make him feel even more isolated and unattached when he was growing up.  

Tricia finally spoke up from the far end of the table.  "Forgive me for asking, but I'm so curious - why are you British?"

Tom smiled that shy, charming smile that always came instantly to his face when he spoke of his first home.  It made me wonder if he missed it, if maybe he had happy memories there...if maybe all his trouble had started once his family uprooted itself.  Under the smile was a wistful look of longing, a quirk of an eyebrow so slight that it was almost unnoticeable.    

"I was born in London.  My dad moved us here when I was ten and then left us soon after, and mum couldn't get us back home, so I finished growing up in Detroit."

"How did you end up in San Diego from Michigan?  That's a long way."

Tom looked at me and then at the floor, and I could see him calculating in his head just how much he wanted to tell her.

_No...no no no, don't go there, not this soon.  Cara's not ready, you're not ready.  I'm not even ready._

"Your aunt, Emma...she and I got split up into different foster homes after our stepdad came into the picture, and she ended up in San Diego when the family she was with moved there.  I didn't want her that far away from me, so I followed her."

"You ran away?"

"Yeah."

"How old were you?"

He hesitated, looking at me again.  I tried to tell him _no_ with my eyes.  He looked at the table, at his hands, for a long moment, then finally exhaled slowly and spoke.

"Fifteen."

I could see Cara figuring it out in her head.

"Holy shit."

Tom nodded.  "Yeah.  Holy shit."

"So...when you and mom met...you were running away from home.  You _met my mom_ when you _ran away._ You weren't just a hitchhiker that she saw on the side of the road and gave a ride to, you were a little kid running away from home."  She had a strange look on her face and for the first time I truly understood how she felt. If a mirror had been held up to me while I was reading the Olivetti file, I felt certain I would have seen that same look on my own face.

"Yes."  Tom's voice was very soft and quiet, his tone difficult to interpret.  I couldn't tell if it was melancholy or shame that we were hearing, but I hoped it wasn't the latter.  Tom had nothing to be ashamed of. "She...helped me."

Cara was staring at him hard and I could tell it was making him uncomfortable, but her eyes refused to leave his face.  "Helped you how?"

Tom sat far back in his chair and ran one hand through his hair, letting his palm cover his eyes for a few seconds, either composing himself or figuring out how to word his next statements carefully, or maybe just to break the contact between their gazes long enough to pull himself together.  "Cara - please, I don't want you to feel badly toward your mum.  She was a wonderful kindhearted person and I might not have made it without her."  He fiddled with a napkin with one hand, the other under the table on his knee, and I wished I was sitting close enough to reach over and squeeze his fingers without anyone seeing.  But my chair was too far away, so I just stared at the bubbles rising in the glass of Coke in front of him, the same place his eyes were fixed.  "She gave me a safe place to sleep for the night, which was what I needed because I was in a very bad part of town, sleeping out in the open.  It was cold and I didn't even have a jacket.  I was starving, I hadn't eaten in two days...she fed me."

"And she slept with you."

The words weren't accusing or judgmental, but they still had a bite to them.  I looked over at Tricia, suddenly remembering she was in the room with us; she hadn't spoken a word since asking why Tom was British.  The look on her face was carefully blank, betraying nothing about her feelings.  She was Alicia's mother-in-law, not her mother, so hopefully the details that I knew were coming wouldn't be too upsetting for her.  I had no idea how close the two of them had or hadn't been.

"Yes.  I lied to her, I told her I was nineteen.  It wasn't her fault."

Cara was silent for a long while, not looking at any of us.  "So she didn't know you were a runaway?"

"No, she didn't.  Not until later."

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with this.  "So I don't guess you loved each other, then."

Tom's breath caught, audibly - I tried not to look at him but I couldn't help myself.  This was the only part I had ever let myself speculate about...I was curious to find out if I was right, although I had the sick feeling it was going to break my heart one way or another.  There was a pause while Tom sat with his mouth open, as if formulating words that were doing their best not to come out.  When he finally spoke, the words were strong and unwavering, the words of a man who spoke absolute truth without fear of the consequences.  

"Actually, I loved your mum very much.  I've thought about her often for the last fourteen years."

There it was.  I was right...he had loved her.  Softhearted Tom, holding a torch all these years for the first woman to ever show him love and affection without the fear of violence being attached to it.  

"But you were only together for one night?"

"Yes."  He nodded, looking down at his hands again.  "It was enough."

I felt my heart break in two from those three little words, the sad, quiet way he said them.   _It was enough._ There was a long silence while Cara slowly spun her fork on her plate.  How many times had I watched Tom do that when he was thinking?  Her face was blank with the exception of the furrowed brow, another thing she shared with her father.  The quiet hung over us uncomfortably, but no one tried to break it.

"She must have loved you too," she finally said, speaking slowly and quietly, obviously trying to deal with her words as they were spoken.  "I remember, when I was six and she was in the hospital, she told me about you.  She said, 'Cara always be nice to strangers, because you might be the only good thing that's ever happened to them.'  I always remembered that."

There was a sniffle from Tricia's end of the table, but nobody looked at anyone else.

"What did she say about me?" Tom finally asked, his voice hesitant, almost timid, as if he wasn't sure he really wanted the answer.  He dragged his eyes from his Coke glass to Cara's face, his expression silently pleading.

"It's fuzzy because I was a little kid.  But she said I looked like my dad, and that even though she only knew you for a little while, she never forgot you.  She told me that I would have liked you a lot.  And she told me your name.  When I asked how come we didn't live with you, she said, _'because he had to go his own way'."_

I looked at Tom and immediately wished I hadn't - his eyes were tearing up, shiny and wet with unshed tears that I felt certain he'd been holding back for years.  But Cara suddenly slapped her hands down on the table, making us all jump.  "You know what?" she asked, shaking her head and breaking into a defiant smile. "I don't even care how I happened.  I got my dad now and that's all I ever wanted."  She reached out and put her hand on the table, palm up, the same exact way Tom always did with me when I was irritated with him or having a bad day.  He put his hand on hers and their fingers laced together.  "I always knew you were out there somewhere."

 

That night we were getting ready to go to a hotel when Cara looked at us like we were crazy and informed us that we were not, in fact, going to do any such thing.  "We've got a spare room and you're going to stay in it, aren't they gramma?"

Tricia nodded, getting up to stretch.  "Absolutely - but you'll have to get them their blankets and things, it's past this old lady's bedtime."  She came over to me and leaned over to give me a hug.  "Thank you for bringing this man all this way, sweetie...I've never seen my grandgirl so happy."  She hugged and kissed Cara, then gave Tom a big hug as well.  "Don't stay up too late."

 

We were putting sheets on the bed in the guest room while Tom fiddled with his phone, texting with Ewan about pub business, when Cara started in with the personal questions that I knew were coming...she'd been eyeing me, then looking at Tom and back to me again, so I knew what this was going to be about.  It was obvious by her expression that she thought we were a bit of an odd couple.

"So how did you get together anyway?" she asked, grinning with amused curiosity as Tom muttered _Fucking wanker_ at his phone, her face exposing exactly what she was thinking as she caught me grimacing and shaking my head.  Tom's proclivity toward swearing and colorful expletives in general didn't bother me when we were at home, but he seemed to forget himself when we were around people who didn't know us.  I considered it for a moment, not really sure how to answer this one - there was no reason for Tom and I to be together other than the simple fact that we _were._

Tom looked at me with a _You want this one?_ quirk to his eyebrow, switching from texting to voice, no doubt to give himself an excuse to pass this line of questioning off to me.  I gave him a nasty look and pushed him out of the way as I came around the bed to get the blankets from the chair behind him.  "This guy that we both know, he's sort of in our group of friends, but neither of us is actually friends with him...he left the pub at the same time I did one night and he was kinda drunk, got a little rude with me outside, and your dad just showed up out of nowhere and rescued me."

"Really?"  She turned to Tom, grinning.  "You saved her from a perv?"

He shook his head, ending his conversation with Ewan and dropping down into the chair with a heavy sigh.  "He was drunk, it wasn't hard."

"He's being modest."  I yanked on one of the blankets under him and he lifted his butt to let me tug it out of the chair, making a halfhearted grab at me as I stepped out of his reach.

"So you what?  Gave him a beatdown?"

"No, no, nothing like that."

"It was _exactly_  like that," I protested, smoothing the blanket over the bed.  "He punched him in the face, knocked him down, then kicked him in the ribs, like, twelve times."

_And then he ripped his throat out with his teeth, at least according to my dreams._

Cara shot him a proud look.  "Amazing...my dad is a superhero vigilante, rescuing women outside of bars."

"Hardly.  Like I said, he was drunk.  Once he went down it was over."

"You're lying.  He's lying.  I was there, I saw the whole thing."

Tom reached out and grabbed me as I wandered too close, pulling me into his lap and wrapping his long arms around me to keep me there.  "Says the girl who was sitting on the sidewalk half unconscious from a fractured cheekbone.  You're _not_ the most reliable chronicler of the event."

I squirmed and he let go of me, suddenly remembering who was in the room with us; I moved away from him quickly to get our suitcase and heft it up onto the bed, pretending he hadn't just bounced me on his knee in front of an obviously amused teenager.  "Well, he's afraid of you for _some_ reason. All I know is I always feel like the safest person in the room."

He looked at me, his eyes soft, with the slightest hint of a smile curling just the very corner of his mouth.  It was a very distinctly wolfish type of grin.

 

"I never in a million years would have guessed you're Indian."  We were alone now, Cara having hugged us goodnight and gone to bed, and Tom immediately took the opportunity to finally get in a good grope as he tugged me up into a tight embrace.

"First Nation, thank you very much."  He slid his hand down and squeezed my bottom, just hard enough to make me squirm.  It was quieter than a smack, which was more what I'd been expecting.

"Why'd you never tell anyone?"

"Baby everybody knows except you."

"Why am I the only one that doesn't know?"

"Because you despised me and people don't normally ask lineage questions to people they hate."  He gave me a look, then rolled his eyes.  "You never asked."

"Oh."  I decided to change the subject, testing the waters a little bit;  I was mildly turned on by his hand on my bottom and thought I'd see just how much further than the grope he was willing to go.  "Would you like to make love?" I asked, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him on the chin.  It was as high as I could reach and he wasn't volunteering to bend over to give me access to his lips.

"Are you crazy?  There's no way we're having sex in this house."

I pouted.

"My _daughter_ is in the next room!"  He put his hands on my shoulders and stood me away from him.

"She won't hear us...please?"  I moved up against him again and ran my hands down his chest to his stomach, letting my fingers brush teasingly across the top of his jeans where they sat loosely on his hips.

"Anja, please...god, you know I need you but baby, I can't _do_ this."

"But you were hard earlier..."  I slipped my hand down to the front of his jeans and pressed against his zipper with my palm.  "I know it was there, I felt it."

"Yeah, that just sort of happened, I swear I wasn't thinking about sex...I wasn't even thinking about _you_ to be honest."

"I know...you were having a minor bestiality moment.  I'm trying not to be creeped out by that."

He gave me a dark look and moved to the other side of the bed, dragging our suitcase across to pop it open and dig out his sweats and a teeshirt.  "I'm going to go take a shower and I want you to stay in here."  I raised my eyebrows at him and he shook a finger at me.  "I mean it - you stay in here.  I'm not going to have you seducing me in the bathroom."

"You're no fun."

"Not tonight I'm not."

 

I took my shower after him and when I climbed into bed he was already half asleep, worn out from the trip and our long day.  I scooted back against him, spooning into his front, and smiled when I felt his arms come up around me. 

"Maybe we could..."  He tipped his hips against my butt, letting me feel how hard he was.  "...just quick and quiet."

He pressed up against me, slipping his knee between my thighs, his arms moving up to my chest so his hands could gently cup my breasts over my nightshirt.  He touched me very lightly, as if keeping everything as soft as possible would ensure less sound.  I pushed my bottom back against him and moaned and he slipped one hand up to my mouth to cover it, turning the moan into a muffled little whimper. "Shhhh, baby," he whispered.  "No noise."

I obeyed and kept silent as he slowly pushed into me, kissing the back of my neck and stroking my nipples just enough to get me wet but not enough to make me lose control.  He seemed to know exactly how much was enough to accomplish one without causing the other.  Any time I whimpered too loudly or opened my mouth he would quickly raise one hand to cover it, shushing me gently.  When he was ready to come, he moved over me, turning me so that I was mostly on my stomach, slipping one hand down between my legs as the other came up to grip my throat just hard enough to get my attention.

"Put your face in the pillow, baby," he whispered as his fingers found my clit.  I understood what he was telling me and obeyed, arching my back so that my rear pushed up harder against him, burying my face in the soft linens to drown out any sounds that might escape my throat.  His thrusting became harder, faster, but still carefully controlled as he took us closer and closer to climax, finally finishing deep inside me and stilling his hips to catch his breath once his body stopped shuddering.  I could feel his heart pounding against my back as his fingers began stroking me, deliberately keeping our orgasms separate so he could control them both.  "Bite your tongue," he murmured into my hair when I groaned a little under his weight.  He was holding me still with his own body to keep the bed from making noise and the thought crossed my mind that he was far too experienced with keeping things quiet for this to be the first time he'd ever bothered.

As his fingers rubbed tantalizingly against my warm, wet, starting-to-throb sensitive bits, I decided his covert skills were a contemplation for another time;  right now all I cared about was the rising heat in the pit of my gut and his steady breathing in my ear, the pressure of his body pushing down on me, the scent of his freshly showered skin breaking through with sweat and the musky smell of his come leaking out of me.  I pushed my face hard into the pillow and gnawed my lip to keep myself from slipping completely into the overwhelming loss of control I felt coming - but I knew Tom was holding the reigns and wouldn't let me be pulled under.  His skilled fingers stroked at me mercilessly until I reached the pinnacle and breached the barrier, bursting through on the other side, my whole body filling with a searing bright light of sensation that blinded my consciousness and rendered me momentarily mute and paralyzed.  

"Shhhhh baby girl," Tom soothed, withdrawing his fingers when my hips ceased jerking against him.  I sucked in my breath, half suffocated by the pillow, and let him turn my head to the side so I could breathe more freely.  "You did good baby, I'm proud of you."

"Oh god," I whispered as he kissed along my cheekbone, around my eye.  "I've never had a stronger urge to scream bloody murder in my life.  Something about knowing you can't..."

He chuckled softly and moved himself off my back.  I felt him leave the bed, opening my eyes to see him holding his hand out to me.  "Come on babe, lets go clean you up...you're going to start dripping and I don't want Tricia to be traumatized when she washes these sheets."

I held my hand up, weak and limp from the heavy orgasm, and he grabbed it and dragged me off the bed while I giggled and protested.  When my weight left it, the bed slammed into the wall and we froze;  it sounded loud enough to shake the whole house, like when you're trying to tiptoe past your parents' room in the middle of the night to watch TV and every creak of the floorboards is deafening.  

 _"Shit,"_   Tom whispered, and I couldn't help it - I burst out laughing, at him, at the situation, at us trying to be quiet and failing so miserably.  He slapped his hand over my mouth and I laughed even harder, realizing how ridiculous we would undoubtedly look to anyone observing, both of us naked and looking every bit like teenagers caught in each other's dorm room after curfew.  "Anja I'm gonna fucking whip you if you don't shut up."

I pried his hand off my face and shoved him, hard, but it didn't even move him.  "You're such a liar, you'd never do it and you know it so don't threaten me with it unless you plan to follow through!"  I was still laughing and off balance, and when he let go of me I fell down beside the bed, my knees banging on the hard wood floor, adding to the growing list of unnecessary noise we couldn't seem to stop causing.

"You're asking for it," he warned me with a menacing glare.

"Yes I am!" I hissed back, ignoring his offered hand and using the bed to pull myself up off the floor.  "What does a girl have to do to get herself spanked around here?"

"I'm not your fucking daddy," he growled back in a harsh whisper.  "I'm barely coping with being _her_ daddy."

I stopped mid-protest and closed my mouth, not sure if he was joking or serious.  This had turned into something weird so quickly that I had no idea if saying another word was going to get me in trouble or if he would shrug and say _whatever woman._ But he was looking at me with absolutely nothing in his eyes to reveal what was going on behind them, so I just nodded and whispered "Sorry."

We cleaned up as quietly as we could and sneaked back to bed.  He had swung back to the non-snarling side again and snuggled up to me, wrapping his long arms around me and pulling me close as I settled in with my face pressed into his chest.  This was how he apologized when he was moody and I always accepted it without question and without demanding that he say the words.  His arms around me meant more to me than the words ever could, anyway.

 

In the morning we ate and headed out early - Cara wanted Tom to help feed the wolves, a job he didn't have to be asked twice to do.  The joy in his face was amazing, so happy and excited, like a little boy whose greatest wish was coming true.  I'd never seen him like this, and when one of the tamer male wolves came to the fence and took a slab of meat from his hand, he completely forgot himself and reached through the links to pet him.  I saw what he was doing as he did it and slapped my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming at him, afraid of startling the wolf into attacking.

But it didn't attack, and Tom put his hand under its chin, scratching the animal's throat as he spoke quietly to it.

Cara turned around and saw what was happening and dropped the tray she was carrying.   _"Holy shit dad, what are you doing?!"_

 _"Shhhh,"_  Tom hushed us, never taking his eyes off the wolf as it ate from his hand.  It finally took the meat and moved away with it, out of reach, to finish it off.  I looked at Cara apologetically, wanting to tell her it was pointless to say anything to him, but her expression changed quickly from shock to excitement as Tom stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and giving her a sheepish grin.

"You just hand fed the alpha," she said, staring at him wide eyed.  "He not only acknowledged you, _he took food from your hand."_ She sounded completely shocked and in awe, maybe a bit disbelieving at what she'd just seen.

Tom smiled, his eyes bright and his grin lopsided.  I expected him to make some sort of crack about being the supreme alpha, but he just walked over to Cara and picked up the tray she had dropped.  I shook my head and sighed when she looked at me.

"It's what he does," I said.  "Confronts alphas and makes them eat out of his hand."

He looked up and winked at me, and in that moment I realized I had probably never spoken a truer statement in my life.

 

We sat on the hill overlooking the compound while Tom stayed down at the paddock, talking to the old wolf Fenrir through the fence.  Cara watched him carefully, knowing he would probably disregard her warning not to try to touch this particular wolf;  if he wanted to do it, there would be no stopping him, so we left them to have their alone time together.

"You're so lucky," she said after a little while.  "We've been talking on the phone every day for almost two weeks and he _always_ tells me about you when I call him.  He worships you."

I looked at her in surprise.  "Really?  You guys talk every day?"

She nodded, still watching him closely.  "He's always telling me how proud he is of you, how you look after him, how they asked you to move to London for a big promotion but you turned it down to stay with him....god, you two, _that's_ what I want in a relationship when I fall in love."  She was looking down the hill with something of a euphoric look on her face, as if knowing her dad was in a happy, loving relationship made her feel content and happy herself.  "The first time he described you to me he said your hair was 'like fire shot through with stardust' and your eyes were 'like jade in the sunlight'."  I burst out laughing and she joined me, realizing how silly it sounded out of context.  "He seriously went all poetic, it was funny."  Tom had momentarily disappeared from our view and she looked over at the gate, checking to make sure he hadn't sneaked into the enclosure when we weren't looking.  "He's really a romantic, isn't he?"

I fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortably embarrassed.  He'd never said any of those things to me and I sometimes wondered what he actually saw when he looked at me.  Fire and stardust?  That didn't sound like him, at all.  I wondered whose Tom she had been talking to, because I didn't think it was mine.

"Not particularly romantic, no...at least not to my face, it seems."

"Well...whether he says it to you or not...it's obvious he thinks it.  I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you."

"Poetry."  I raised an eyebrow and gave her a disbelieving look.

She laughed.  "Yeah, poetry.  I keep expecting him to start spouting Shakespeare every time you come into the room."

"I think Poe would be more his style."

I flinched as a rock came flying from down the hill and landed between us, skimming across the dirt before bouncing off my leg.  I picked it up and sighed, looking around for a freakishly tall twelve year old. "And that would be his version of a sonnet recital. _"_

A moment later Tom yelled, "Did I hit you?" 

I brushed the dirt off my leg and yelled back, "No."

"Oh okay."

Another rock bounced off my foot.

"Did I hit you?"

"Yes."

We heard him laughing, then he yelled "Sorry!" before another rock came flying and we both ducked.  

"Okay that does it," I said under my breath as I started gathering rocks.  "Stop it, you big ugly child!"  I had no idea where he was so I just yelled in the direction the last rock had come from.

"Bite me, bitch pudding," he yelled back from the general vicinity of some bushes near the gate.

Cara looked at me, her mouth dropping open, and I cringed inwardly. _Shit._ We'd forgotten that our terms of endearment weren't the typical sugary expressions most people were used to hearing.

"Did he just call you _bitch pudding?_  Seriously?!"

"Umm...yes.  Sorry."  I headed down the hill with my shirt full of rocks and she got up to follow me down.

"Oh that's awesome - who calls their wife something like that?  It has to mean something, right?"

"Probably, but don't ask me what."  I made it to the bottom of the hill and started pelting the bushes with rocks till Tom came out and trapped me in his arms to stop the barrage, laughing and licking my face.  I struggled till we fell on the ground and pushed him off me, getting back to my feet to put space between us before he could grab me again.  _"Stop it freak!"_

"Oh my god you two, someone tell me what it means before I get so old I forget I asked."  Cara was standing with her hands on her hips like the adult that neither of us cared to be.  I looked at Tom, who was sitting up laughing behind his hand and refusing to look at me.  

"Tom?  Does it mean something?  You've never really told me why you call me that."  He looked innocent and shrugged, but I wasn't about to let him off so easy.  He squinted up at me with a grin.

"Well, do you remember when we hated each other?"

"Wait," Cara interrupted.  "You hated each other?  When?"

"Um, from about the time we first met until maybe six months or so ago."

"And how long was that?"

I did the math in my head.  "Eight years?  Give or take."  Tom nodded his agreement.

"Are you kidding me?!"

The shocking reality of our relationship suddenly hit home.  We had a very long history of disliking each other and only a very short period of time in which we'd been able to tolerate the sight of one another.  I twisted the silver band on my thumb and waited for Tom's explanation.  He cocked an eyebrow at me, squinting in the sun as he got to his feet and dusted his jeans off.

"She was a bitch to me, but under all the vitriol I always knew she was soft and sweet..."  His mouth quirked up into an enigmatic little grin.  "Like pudding."

_Well that wasn't near as bad as I thought it would be._

"You were a jerk too, don't forget," I shot back, daring to move close enough to him to help swat the dust off his pants.  "Sarcastic ass, always contradicting everything I said.  And you made fun of my hair, you said I was more ginger than the spice aisle in a Turkish market."

"How is that an insult?  And you were downright nasty to me, I seem to recall you saying I should be sleeping hanging upside down in a basement somewhere."

"Only because you were such a - " I glanced over at Cara and lowered my voice.   _"D-i-c-k."_

Cara's mouth dropped open and she stared at me in amused shock.  "Oh my god, did you really just spell dick?  I'm fourteen, I can read you know."

I started laughing, my face going hot.  "Yeah, sorry, force of habit - my grandma always spelled out bad words around me.  In fact she still does."

"So does mine.  Must be a grandma thing."

Tom suddenly started sniffing the air, his eyes closed like he was concentrating on identifying whatever it was he was smelling.  Cara stared at him for a moment, then looked at me.  "What is he doing?"

"Don't worry about it, it's just something he does.  Probably some woman eighty miles from here just got her period or something."

"Uh...huh?"

"He has hyperosmia."

"Extreme sense of smell," she finished for me, nodding.  She stared at him as he turned in a slow circle, following a scent I couldn't detect.  After a moment she sniffed the air herself and narrowed her eyes, like she was suddenly picking up the same thing he was.  "The wolves have it too...there's another thing he's got in common with them.  I'm starting to think he _is_ one."

An image from my dream flashed in my head and I shivered as I watched the two of them honing in on something invisible, something they knew was there under the heavy scent of the wolves, the grass, the dry New Mexico desert air, the chilly snowcapped mountains nearby.  Something undetectable to me.  I heard snarling and couldn't tell if it was from the memory of my dream or if the animals in the paddock were fighting over a bone.

"Someone's setting up a fair or something," Tom suddenly interjected, still sniffing the air, his eyes closed and his chin tilted up.  "Let's go see."  He took off toward the car and Cara followed, leaving me scrambling up the hill after them, trying to keep up with their long legs.

 

_To be continued..._

 


	24. Chapter 24

 

 

The fair turned out to be an open air music festival in the park a mile or so away.  We got a blanket out of the trunk of the car and spread it on the grass, stretching out on it to lay in the sun and listen to band after band, getting up to dance when the mood took us, till night finally fell and the stars came out above us.  Tom took me in his arms and swayed slowly with me against his body, humming into my ear, whispering that he loved me;  I giggled a little, knowing he'd drank at least three beers and was probably feeling generous.  I also knew Cara was watching us with amusement, so I pulled away from him a bit, not wanting to set an embarrassing example of how not to do a public display of affection with a slightly inebriated partner while the kids are watching.  But when I pulled away, Tom tightened his arms around me, burying his face against the top of my head as he moved us gently to the music. _"Don't leave me, girl,"_ he whispered into my hair. _"Not now, not ever."_

My heart clenched up and I felt a lump come up into my throat.  As he tugged me up closer to him and I could feel his heart beating against my cheek, I decided I didn't care who was looking.  I slipped my arms up under his jacket and rubbed his back, letting him hold me as tightly as he wanted as he started to sing quietly to me.

 _Lucky I'm in love with my best friend_  
_Lucky to have been where I have been_  
_Lucky to be coming home again_

I felt happily lost in the moment, in his almost uncomfortably tight embrace, in the warm desert air cooled by the night breeze off the mountains, until I heard a girlish giggle followed by "Go dad."  I reached down to move Tom's sneakily roaming hands off my rear and he suddenly dipped me, tipping me so far backwards that my head almost touched the grass.  He was still singing and I looked up past him at the stars, wondering why none of this seemed anywhere near as ridiculous as it should.

 

The next morning we said our goodbyes and headed home.  Cara and Tom hugged for so long I thought they must both be crying; with their faces buried in each others' hair, I couldn't see to tell, but when he finally picked her up off the ground for a long moment before putting her back down, they separated and there were no tears.  Just big happy smiles, and eyes bright with the excitement of just knowing each other existed.

"Come visit us, any time you want," Tom told her, nodding to Tricia, who promptly nodded her approval back.  "Holidays, summer, whenever, I don't care.  Call me and I'll send you a plane ticket."

"I will.  I have two weeks off in October, I'll try to come then."

I moved around behind them, hugging Tricia and thanking her for letting us stay with them.  She kissed my cheek and then hugged Tom while Cara and I hugged and kissed goodbye.  Things were starting to get a little bit teary when Tom finally took my hand and tugged me away, waving as we got into the car, kissing me sweetly on the nose as he buckled me in so that I wouldn't break down and cry.  The sun was coming up over the mountains and everything was bathed in a soft pink and orange glow, almost surreal in its perfection as we drove away, leaving New Mexico, ending one ugly chapter of Tom's life and starting a new, decidedly more beautiful one.

 

The trip home was blissfully uneventful;  Tom was more at ease now with where we were, no longer on edge about this stretch of road and what had transpired on it all those years ago.   As we were leaving the city limits, he pointed toward a hotel in the distance, a big, ornately designed luxury establishment that obviously catered to the wealthy tourists who frequented this part of the state for the resort skiing.  

"It's beautiful," I remarked, impressed with the fancily cut hedges and trailing roses that climbed the front of the stucco building.  "What is it?"

He took a deep breath and looked at me for a moment, then let his eyes move past me to the hotel again before he turned his attention back to the road.

"That's where Alicia took me from the bus station."

Neither of us said anything else, but he reached across and put his hand on my knee, palm up.  I laid my hand over his and he laced his fingers with mine.  After a little while I glanced over at him, not sure what I was going to see, relieved to find the tiniest hint of a contented smile turning up the corner of his mouth.

 

The Monday after we got back home, I was in the conference room with Laing and a client when my phone went off.  It was on silent vibrate so I was able to pick it up and hold it under the table without anyone noticing, though Laing did glance over in my direction for a moment.  Tom's face was on my screen and I tried not to smile outwardly as Bennett from the London office droned on about acquisitions.  It was a text;  I opened it, expecting to read a reminder to refill my birth control pills, not prepared for what actually popped up on my screen when I clicked it.  

As soon as I started reading, I had to put my hand over my mouth to hide my smile.

 _How many times do I have to tell you_  
_Even when you're crying you're beautiful too_  
_The world is beating you down, I'm around through every mood_  
_You're my downfall, you're my muse_  
_My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues_  
_I can't stop singing, it's ringing, in my head for you_  
_All of me_  
_Loves all of you_  
_Love your curves and all your edges_  
_All your perfect imperfections_  
_Give your all to me_  
_I'll give my all to you  
You're my end and my beginning_  
_Even when I lose I'm winning_  
_'Cause I give you all of me_  
_And you give me all of you_

I had a very hard time concealing my grin and ended up holding an open file in front of my face until I had it under control.  Tom had been veering recklessly between hopelessly romantic and wildly passionate ever since we'd gotten home;  I wasn't sure what had prompted this shift in his behavior toward me, but it was exciting and I wasn't about to complain.  I answered Bennett's question about numbers and then waited a minute for everyone's attention to move from me back to Laing before I responded.

 _Hickory dickory dock_  
_I'm so in love with your cock_  
_Sorry, that's all I got._

He sent me back a picture of his penis and I dropped my phone, drawing a raised eyebrow from Laing as I scrambled to pick it up before his gentlemanly manners could beat me to it.

_I'm in a meeting.  Behave yourself._

_Are you on vibrate?_

_Yes._

_Put your phone between your legs, against your pussy.  I'm going to call you.  Don't answer it._

I glanced around the room to see if anyone was looking my way before I obeyed, slipping my phone up between my thighs as stealthily as I could manage;  I leaned forward to pretend like I was adjusting the strap of my shoe so that I could push it the rest of the way up against the crotch of my panties, grinning with my head ducked down.  When I sat back and looked up, Laing was staring at me with that predatory eagle-eyed gaze of his, one eyebrow raised slightly.  But the tiny smirk on his lips revealed that he knew what kind of games were being played on the other side of the table.  He laid his hand on the portfolio in front of him, tapping his fingers as if deep in thought, punctuating the gesture with a brief thumbs-up in my direction before he opened the file and redirected the conversation.

His approval of my under-the-table shenanigans meant nothing to me, but it earned him a point back that he had lost during the Heyworth file fiasco.

And then my phone started vibrating.

 

After the meeting ended, I waited until most of the retinue had left the boardroom or at least moved away from the table before I wriggled around to dislodge my still vibrating phone.  I was having trouble keeping my breathing steady and desperately needed to get back to my office and lock the door;  but before I could even get out of my chair, Laing turned and sat down on the edge of the table next to me.

"A successful meeting, I'd say," he remarked with a grin, his eyes trailing downward slowly to my lap.  "Don't bother getting up, I'll see our guests out.  Oh, and Miss Black - "  He stood up and then turned back to me again, the smirk returning.  "Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off? You look like you could use some... _rest."_

 

When I got to the pub I went straight to the back room and slammed the door shut, then picked up the office phone and called Tom's cellphone.  I heard it ringing right outside the door just a few seconds before he opened it and came in, switching on the light and coming straight to me, pulling his teeshirt off over his head as he crossed the room.  He was already unbuckling his belt by the time he got to me and I scooched my skirt up over my hips, unbuttoning my blouse as quickly as I could as he shoved his jeans down and grabbed me.  Our mouths slammed into each other hard enough to hurt, but neither of us cared; my hands went straight to his cock and his came up to my face, cradling my head as he laid me down on the sofa and climbed on top of me.  I had him inside me before either of us spoke a word.

We fucked hard and fast and messy without even trying to hold anything back.  It took maybe five minutes from the moment he entered me to our last cursing gasps, and when we were finished he sat up and smacked me on the rear as he tugged his shirt back on.

"I should send you selfies more often," he grinned, standing to pull his jeans up.  

"That was a selfie?  I thought you were in the freezer taking pictures of the kielbasa.  I only rushed over here because I was hungry."

A wicked grin tugged the corner of his mouth up.  "You want me to feed you, baby?"

I rolled over and sat up, leaning forward with my eyes closed as he stood up in front of me.  "Yes, please," I murmured, licking my lips and opening my mouth, waiting.  I expected to hear the rustle of his jeans sliding down again, but the sound that met my ears instead was the office door opening.  My eyes flew open just in time to see him walking out, glancing back at me over his shoulder and laughing.

"I've got a sandwich out here for you," he yelled to me as the door slammed shut behind him.

_Ugh.  You win this time, Heyworth._

 

I changed into the jeans that I kept stashed in his desk and stayed at the pub, helping out, clearing tables and lending a hand wherever it was needed.  The lunch crowd was a bit overwhelming and I spent some time in the kitchen putting plates together like a short order cook, which I found surprisingly enjoyable...if I ever decided to leave the firm I might have a future helping Tom run the place.  We were mated now, so the pub was partly mine, right?  I felt happy and carefree and sarcastically shouted _"Yes boss!"_ when he asked me to get things.  He kept looking at me and shaking his head, smacking me on the rear whenever he walked past.  I had absolutely no trouble telling myself this was much more fun than board meetings and filework.  And if this boss had his way with me in his office, there would be no need to fill out a harassment report in triplicate.  The whole scenario was immensely tempting.

Later that afternoon when things slowed down, I heard Ewan cursing about his phone battery being dead and something about needing to call his brother;  Tom was standing on the bar changing a bulb in the track fixture and told him he could use his, but he'd have to get it from his pocket since his hands were full.

I watched with interest as Ewan climbed up on the bar and slipped his hand into Tom's front pocket from behind.  He was standing close, his chest bumping into Tom's back, and neither of them seemed the slightest bit uncomfortable with the contact.  He pulled Tom's phone out and stayed close to him as he dialed, then Tom brushed against him as he turned to climb down.  The whole thing was surprisingly... _intimate_...even though I knew it was completely innocent and there was nothing between them.  It was over in a matter of just a few seconds, but the simple fact that neither of them felt the need to switch on the hypermasculinity to counteract the gentle contact struck me as very interesting indeed.

It also more than slightly turned me on.

I had seen him do the same thing with Chris many times - big, muscled, tough guy Chris seemed to touch Tom differently than he did other people, with a gentleness that one would think a man would reserve for a lover.  And Tom didn't pull away or rush to end the contact when they touched, never acted embarrassed or annoyed, in fact he never seemed to even notice it.  His expression never changed, his demeanor never shifted.  The noticeable - what would one call it, tenderness? - between the two of them was nothing out of the ordinary to him, and he functioned around it as if it was something that belonged in his interactions with his friend.

I caught myself wondering...had there been something between them in the past?  Something that still kept them close, still affected how they interacted with each other physically?  I knew what Tom had done in his younger days, how he had survived on his own, what had been required of him just to make it here alive.  Had it affected his sexuality, maybe defined it?  Was there something of that still left over in him, or was his casual acceptance of male contact just a part of his easygoing nature?  But his reaction to the stranger in New Mexico touching him was so drastically different...maybe it was strictly a trust thing.  If he trusted you, you could touch him...if not, he would rip your head off and slam you into a wall for just laying your hand on him.  I had seen that, firsthand.  It was frightening.

I had so many questions, but first and foremost I wanted to know one thing:  if I slipped my hand into his pocket like Ewan just had, would he take me into the back room and have his way with me again?

I _needed_ to find out.

Moving up behind him when he was at the taps, I pressed against his back and reached around him, sliding my hands seductively over his ribs and down those solid muscular lines that went down both sides of his stomach into a harshly defined V that dipped into the top of his jeans.  But instead of pushing my hands into his pockets, I shoved them purposefully down the front of his pants, over his hipbones.

He never flinched; his only reaction was to lean back slightly into me, turning his head to the side with a small contented smile.  He chuckled softly, then whispered, "Again?"

Suddenly trembling with an incredible want, I nodded with my head against his back so he could feel it.  He finished installing the tap spigot and switched it on, then flipped it off and pushed one hand down into his pants to squeeze my fingers.  He tipped his head toward the back and simply said, "Go."

 

When he came in, I immediately pushed myself up against him and inhaled, drawing the scent of him deep into my lungs.  His skin smell was mixed with the sweet odor of beer that had splashed onto his shirt, a combination that I always found deliciously sexy.  He lowered his head and started kissing down my neck to my chest, obviously every bit as switched on as I was.

"Are you bisexual?"

He didn't even skip a beat, just kept kissing my neck until I started to halfheartedly push against his chest to make him pay attention to me.  He pulled his head back and looked at me, one eyebrow cocked, his expression all but screaming _Seriously?  You choose right now to ask this?_ He went down to resume sucking at my throat but I kept pushing against him till he finally sighed heavily and stepped back from me, giving me a frustrated look of amusement mixed with irritation.

"You lured me back here to ask me this?  Really Anja?"

He came at me again, but despite my intense arousal I stepped back, letting him know with my expression that I expected him to give me an answer first.  He tipped his chin down and looked at me out of the tops of his eyes, a look that always warned me I was about to be in trouble and no amount of girlish charm would get me out of it.

"Actually I'm omnisexual, I'll fuck anything, see that table over there?  Watch, I'll fuck it.  Give me the toaster, I'll fuck that too.  The broccoli can watch and then I'll fuck it after I'm done with that stack of towels in the bathroom.  And then I'm gonna hump that green rug in the hallway because it's been begging for it."  He made a grab for me and I ducked out of his grasp, but he caught me anyway and yanked me up off my feet.  "And then it'll be your turn, if I've got anything left!"

I giggled hysterically, kicking and struggling while he slammed me down on the sofa, a little harder than I was happy with.  "Quit you freak!"

"Be quiet woman," he growled, pulling at my jeans while I did my best to foil his attempts at getting them off me.  To my dismay, he was faring much better than I was.  His eyes had gone dark but he was still grinning, a good sign that this wasn't going to turn serious...we'd had far too little fun sex lately and the prospect of some purely lighthearted screwing was starting to be immensely appealing.

"You haven't really fucked the broccoli have you?" I asked, trying not to laugh as he yanked my jeans so hard it displaced my entire body six inches down the cushions.  "Because we're having that for supper tonight, you undisciplined animal."

"Since when are you against a little extra protein in your veggies?"

"Eww.  And the rug in the hall does have a sticky spot - was that you too?"

"What do you mean, _eww?_  How many times have you had my cock halfway down your throat?  And might I remind you that _you swallow quite enthusiastically."_

I squirmed with no success, accomplishing nothing as far as escape but causing a raging boner that threatened to pop the teeth on his zipper.  He straddled me where I lay, one foot on the floor and one knee on the other side of me;  I could easily wiggle out, but getting away from him now was the last thing on my mind.  My eyes fell to the front of his jeans and I watched with quickly growing arousal as he yanked his belt off, his jeans immediately slipping down to expose his hipbones.  I could see the top few inches of his tattoo and I sat up as far as I could to reach it, running my tongue over the sharply jutting bone, feeling the beginning of the rough knife scar that stretched from there down to the start of his thigh.

"Please take them off," I whispered in a ragged voice that didn't sound like me.  He laughed darkly, and I shivered at the menace he managed to put into that simple sound.

"You've already been in my pants once today," he reminded me, his hands going to his zipper to tug it down over the growing bulge behind it.  "Why are you so horny suddenly?"

"You've got a cute ass," I answered hurriedly as I pulled at his belt loops, trying to rush him.  "I saw Ewan pushing against it and it flipped my switch."

A confused look crossed his face, arching one eyebrow up as he looked down at me.  "Ewan did what?"

"When he got your phone from your pocket - he was so close to you."

"And that turned you on?"

I nodded, growing impatient, pushing his hands out of the way to finish unzipping his jeans myself.  He grabbed my wrists and yanked my arms to my sides.  "You... _naughty_ girl!"

"Oh shut up Tom, just fuck me please."

"Aren't you a classy bitch."

I pulled my shirt off over my head and he shut up immediately, his primal nature taking over as he hungrily watched me pop my bra off.  As my breasts tumbled out and fell freely into his hands, he groaned and stretched out on top of me, one hand moving down between my legs just long enough to determine that I was as wet and ready for him as he'd assumed I would be.  He pushed in without hesitating and fell into a quick, erratic pattern of thrusting that pushed the top of my head roughly into the arm of the sofa.

"So are you really... _oh!_...omnisexual?"

He grunted, pushing harder to try to shut me up.

"Is there...even... _nnngh_...such a thing?"

"Yes there is such a thing," he hissed, his breathing hard and ragged as he dipped his head to suck at my nipples.  "And no, I'm not."

"It's okay if you are... _oh god_...I don't mind...really..."

He gripped my face with one hand, squeezing my cheeks till I couldn't speak anymore and was forced to look at him.  "Listen to me, you daft cow.  I said I'm _not._  Are you paying attention?"

I nodded as best I could with his huge hand cutting like a vise into my jawbone.  He let go and began kissing softly where his fingers had pressed into my skin.  

"You rude fucker, did you just call me a daft cow?"

"Yes."  I could hear the faintest inflection of a laugh in his voice and clenched up on him, satisfied when I heard that smug laughter turn quickly into a hiss of discomfort.  He'd told me before that my vaginal muscles could strangle a man to death - I decided to remind him of that fact to discourage any further insults.  But he refused to let me take the upper hand, pushing hard into me until he hit my cervix roughly, causing me to yelp at the sharp shocking jolt of pain that shot through my center.

"Remember who's dominating who here, little girl," he growled as I bit down on my lip to recover from the vicious stab.  He knew how much that hurt.

"Yes but - think about - _oh ow ow ow_...who's got their dick buried inside a potentially - _dangerous orifice."_

"Are you threatening me with your cunt?"

I tensed up, clenching as hard as I could, and his elbows buckled so that he fell down onto me with his full weight.  A strangled gasp ripped from his throat and I felt his entire body shudder.

"Oh baby," I crooned triumphantly, realizing what had just happened with a surge of excited pride.  "I just won, didn't I?"

He couldn't answer for a moment as he recovered, his breath heaving, his hand trembling on the side of my face, eyes squeezed shut.  There was a shaky moan that escaped his lips right before he kissed me.

"You win, bitch pudding," he said, panting.   _"You win."_

 

I sat beside him, playing absently with his belt as he pulled his jeans up and buttoned them.  He reached back to put his hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze.  "I'm straight, Anja.  I wouldn't mind being any other way, but I'm not.  I'm just straight...and openminded, I guess."

I nodded, still fiddling with his belt in my lap.  His eyes fell to my hands and watched them for a bit before returning to my face;  I noticed the slightest bit of a flinch in his jaw muscle as he inspected my cheeks, the red marks that I could feel darkening on my skin where he'd grabbed me.  "Are these okay?" he asked quietly as he ran a fingertip across my jawline before leaning back to kiss me.  "Sorry I got a bit rough with you...I need to learn to throttle it back a bit, don't I."

"You're fine," I murmured, staring at the bite marks on his belt.  "I don't mind the rough."

He watched my face for a few moments and I could feel his eyes analyzing me.  "Where do you draw the line?"

"I'm not sure there is one."

"There needs to be, sweetie.  You can't just turn me loose and not set a boundary for me to respect.  That's dangerous."

"Why's it dangerous?"

"Because."  He looked down at his own hands, then his eyes went back to the belt.  "There are certain...animalistic...tendencies in my personality that can take over when I lose control.  If I have no limits to concentrate on in that moment, there's nothing to stop me just running wild."  He looked into my eyes and I could see his pupils were completely blown wide.  "You could get hurt."

I just stared back at him, wondering if my own eyes looked as wild and hungered as his.

"Where did the animal come from?" I finally asked, running my hand over his shoulder, up under his hair to tease the back of his neck.  "Is it something you were born with?"

His expression went dark with a sudden brief flash of something like anger and I watched, entranced, as his pupils contracted back to normal, returning the color to his eyes.  So anger wasn't necessarily part of his loss of control.  Interesting.

"It's what happens when you put a kid in a closet and leave them there for two weeks without human interaction.  The animal comes out.  It's a survival thing...the animal is stronger than the kid, so it takes over." He looked away, turning his head to crack his neck, sighing deeply.  "The bad part is, once that animal has come out, it never truly goes back inside.  You have to spend the rest of your life looking out for it, protecting it and protecting others  _from_ it, because it's always lurking around, waiting for a chance to attack something."  He patted my thigh, leaving his warm hand spread across it.  "Don't give it an excuse."

I laid my hand over his and tugged at his fingers.  "I let you claim every opening I've got on the very first night we spent together, and I let you bite me so hard you drew blood - do you really think there's anywhere _left_ for me to draw a line?"

He was straight-faced for a long moment, then he broke into a wide grin and laughed softly, hanging his head.  "True.  But even brave little girls like you have _something_ they can't give anyone permission to do to them."

"Well," I said quietly, getting up on my knees behind him to kiss my way up his shoulder to his ear, "If I think of anything, you'll be the first - and probably only person, ever - to know."

 

Ewan gave us a look as we left the office and something told me he'd overheard at least part of our encounter.

"Are you two always that aggressive when you have sex?"  Neither of us answered him and he grinned, shaking his head as he continued mixing drinks.  "Well all I can say is there better not be anything wet on that sofa because I need a nap after the lunch crowd leaves."

I snatched the towel off his shoulder as I moved over to stand behind Tom, laying my head against his back as I slipped my arms around him.  "It should be dry by then."

 

Ever since his confession about the animal part of himself, I'd been thinking about something to do for Tom...something that only I could do for him, to show him how much I loved him.  Something that would tell him  _I'm yours forever.  I trust you always._ Something to show him I wasn't afraid of him or of anything lurking inside him.  The animal didn't scare me.

Laing had overstepped the boundary when he'd told me  _You're so much more than just a sub_.  But I couldn't help thinking maybe he was right.  Maybe I was...and Tom knew it as well as I did, maybe even more so.  But that didn't mean I couldn't be _just_ his sub and nothing else for a few days, despite whatever else I might be.

 

He came home late that night, tired and untalkative.  His eyes strayed to me as he stood at the door taking off his jacket and boots, a small smile playing across his lips as we acknowledged each other without words.  He watched as I came to him, dropping his boot and waiting, his smile widening as I got closer.

Standing in front of him, I reached for his belt, unbuckling it and tugging it slowly from the loops around the waist of his jeans.  He stood still and let me, his eyes following my hands, not questioning, just observing.  When I had it completely removed,  I cinched the belt around my neck and handed the end to him, like a leash.  He looked at it for a moment as I held it out to him;  the frayed, worn leather, pitted with teeth marks where I had bitten and gnawed at it the night he'd bound it around my wrists.  As he slowly raised his hand to take it, he brought his eyes back to mine, and in that moment I knew he understood what I was doing.  He nodded, just slightly, and twisted the end of the belt around his fist, pulling me toward him.  There were no words...we didn't need any.

The stereo was on, a dark, melancholy love song playing as he removed my blouse and bra and his own shirt, dropping them onto the armchair as his hands came back to my hips and pulled me with him in a slow, sensual dance, barely moving, barely touching, one hand holding the end of the belt, keeping it taut between us.  By the end of it he had me close up against him and I could feel him, hard and heated, pressing into my belly.  He put the strap of the belt between his teeth and moved his hands to my rear, lifting me up onto the entertainment center.

In a quick movement his hand slid up my thighs, pushing my skirt up with them as he lifted my legs up over his shoulders and sank his face to my crotch, dropping the belt across my stomach as his mouth came down hotly on the dampening underside of my panties.  My first act as his complete submissive was to come for him, obeying his whispered command to not make a sound as his warm tongue played in heated circles on my willing flesh.

 

For two days I did nothing but serve him.  I did as he said, without argument or hesitation.  I wore his belt around my neck so that he could lead me when he chose to, subdue me when he felt the need, dominate me when it was time.  And I let him, without once ever pulling back on it.

In the morning I served him his coffee, cooking his breakfast if he chose to eat before I left for work;  I shaved him, braided his hair, tied his boot laces, all the while kissing and caressing him, showing my adoration with constant attention until it was time for me to dress myself and head to the office.  And always he watched me with eyes that were both burning and kind, letting me tend to him on my knees, always stroking my hair lovingly as I did so.  And when I came home from work, I would bring the belt to him to put around my neck again, letting him tug me gently down onto his lap to rub my back and cuddle me.

He always began and ended each session this way.  And I let him, curling contentedly on his lap as he stroked and petted me, confused at first as to why he wasn't taking the opportunity to be rough with me, to truly have his way - I had given him my permission the moment I put his belt around my neck, but he never handled me roughly, never spoke to me harshly, and he never once came even remotely close to hurting me. His unruly side seemed to go into remission, replaced by this gentle, loving side that whispered sweet things to me while tenderly rubbing my back till I fell asleep in his arms.  After a while I stopped questioning it in my head and just enjoyed it, finding myself wanting more and more to please him because of the respectful way he treated me, the adoring way he looked at me, the reverent way he touched me.

And in between the petting and stroking and loving words, he issued gentle commands, enjoying complete control over me and my body but returning pleasure for pleasure, without fail.

 

When I got home on the third afternoon, Tom was there.  I hadn't expected him to be - it was Friday, the pub would be packed - but there he was, sitting in the chair in the livingroom, facing the door like he was waiting for me.  I dropped my purse and coat on the sofa and went down on my knees, crawling over to him and laying my head on his knee.  He rested his hand on my hair, his fingers lazily stroking through it.

"I have something for you."

I pressed my face into his knee and wrapped my arms around his leg as he reached between his hip and the side of the chair to pull something out.  When I heard the high pitched tinkling rattle of metal on metal, I looked up to see what he had.  In his hands was the belt - but he had cut and altered it so that it was a proper collar.  There was a silver ring in the front.  I couldn't take my eyes off it as he held it out to me, waiting for me to take it.

I stared at it for a long while, the little indents in the leather that I knew came from my own teeth, the softly frayed edges from all the years he'd worn it through the beltloops of his jeans.  I finally reached out and touched it with one finger, the way I'd done the night he had presented me with the option of touching the belt or the scarf.  So long ago, it felt like ages and only moments...my finger traced along the leather and I saw that he had sanded the inside so that it would be soft against my skin.  I took it from his hand as I looked up at him.

He could have forcibly collared me.  He could have ordered me onto my knees and put it on me as I knelt before him.  But he didn't...he stood up, offering me both his hands to raise me up onto my feet, then he held his hand out and waited for me to give the collar back to him.  When I did, he just stood there holding it, looking into my eyes until I finally reached up and lifted my hair off my neck.  He smiled gently, his eyes shining as he opened the collar and slipped it around my neck, buckling it so that it sat loosely on my collarbones, then turned it till the buckle was in back and the ring hung in the front.

"Whenever you want it," he said quietly, slipping one fingertip through the ring and tugging it gently, "this will be in your drawer.  Only take it out when you choose."  I nodded my understanding as he slipped his hand around my throat, pulling me close against him to kiss me as I turned my face up to him.

We made love with the collar on, just once, before he took it off me and tucked it away into my drawer.  I felt happy, watching him close it and turn to smile at me.  We both knew it was time to put it away, but we also knew it would come out again.  "You never demanded anything of me," I said quietly.  "You could have treated me any way you wanted and I would have accepted it."

He reached out to stroke the back of one finger down my cheek, tilting an eyebrow questioningly.  "You gave me a wonderful gift," he said, his voice gentle as he ran his fingertip across my lips.  "Why would I want to abuse it?"

 

 

_To be continued..._


	25. Chapter 25

 

 

When I got home from work, Tom was waiting again.  I put my things down and looked at him, smiling.  "This is going to become a habit," I said with a grin, expecting him to send me to the bedroom for my collar.  But he didn't - instead, he held out his hand and pulled me into his lap when I took it.

"I want to do something for you," he murmured, nuzzling my ear.  "You did something special for me, now I want to reciprocate.  Something you've wanted for a long time."  He put his hand on the back of my neck and urged me up off his lap, standing me in front of him.  "Across my lap, baby girl."

I stared at him for a moment until it registered.   _He was going to spank me._  When I realized, my mouth dropped open and all I could do was stand there, staring at him in excitement, till he took my hand and started to pull me down.  I let him, kneeling at his knee for a moment to slip off my jacket and shoes while he watched, his hands resting on his thighs, his eyes going from my hands to my eyes until I was ready. He patted his knee and I obediently moved to lay over his lap.

"I don't think this is where my talents lie," he said with a chuckle as I sucked in my breath, hugging tight to his knee while he scooched my skirt up.  I felt his warm hand on my bottom, playing momentarily with the lace of my panties before pulling them down, baring my ass to him.  "But I will certainly give it my best effort."

I wriggled on his leg, anxious for the first blow to be administered.  "I'm sure you'll do fine," I gasped.  My voice sounded breathless and excited.

"Would you like me to warm you up before we get started?"  His hand was sliding slowly across my cheeks, back and forth, making my hips move gently with it.  He let his thumb slip lazily into the crevice between them each time.

"Maybe...a little..."

Sliding his hand down, he nudged a finger between my folds, easing it in till he touched that spot where soft outer skin meets even softer inner skin.  He moved his finger slowly in a small circle until my opening began to self lubricate, then with a satisfied chuckle he pushed it inside, dipping in just enough to bring my wetness down.  I couldn't hold in my anguished moan as arousal began to warm my belly, making my body shudder in anticipation of what was coming.

"Is this good?"

"Mmmm...this is _very_ good."  I hugged his leg, rubbing my face against his knee like a contented cat, arching my back so that my bottom pushed up against his hand.  I heard his breathy chuckle, the way he inhaled sharply, and knew he'd just felt himself stiffen.

 _All of me_  
_Loves all of you_

I groaned, listening to him hum the tune to the song that had, somewhere along the way, become ours.  It brought tears to my eyes and I found myself stroking his leg, relaxing completely across his lap as he gently dipped his fingers in and out of me, bringing my arousal to a warm, tingly tightness that was starting to ache.  

"Are you ready for a smack, baby?"

I tensed, the tingly tightness bursting into a roaring blaze of anticipation and excitement.  I had no idea why I was finding this so thrilling - I'd never been spanked before with the exception of the one time Tom had given me three smacks, just to get me to stop bugging him about it. But somehow, something in me knew it was a thing I desired, and that no matter how harsh or painful it ended up being, I was going to love it...Tom dominating me this way, having complete control over my comfort level or lack thereof, letting him determine whether I cried or not, if I felt true pain or not, if I would or wouldn't derive pleasure from it...it was all in his hands, literally.  In this position, across his lap with my head down, there was little I could do but hand everything to him and trust him with it all.  It was a big thing.

Big because it wasn't in Tom's nature to do this.  Big because I was the only one of us that wanted it to happen, and he was going against some deep seated aversion to do it for me.  But I couldn't feel guilty about it, because how many times had I closed my eyes and held my breath, letting him do something that I was unsure of, that was completely against my nature or out of my comfort zone?  Since our very first night together I had been accepting of everything he did to me, never complaining, maybe questioning from time to time but without protest.  It was his turn to step out of his comfort zone and squirm a bit for me.

And he was about to.

His hand was on the small of my back, heavy, pressing down to keep me still.  That in itself was something I found both worrisome and exciting - was he going to whip me hard enough that he felt the need to restrain me?  I hadn't so much as moved yet, just lying still and submissive, waiting.  I was on the verge of rethinking this, or perhaps setting some ground rules, when his other hand started rubbing my bottom with a simultaneously soothing and suggestive touch.  There was no aggression in the way he was handling me, just authority and dominance.  I was chewing my lip nervously when his voice broke into my thoughts with a slightly impatient tone.

"I asked you a question, girly."

I jumped, startled into attention by his knee bouncing me roughly.  "Yes, yes," I said quickly.  "I think so."

He laughed softly, his hand still rubbing in soothing circles on my backside.  "You have to be certain.  Or I could simply rub your bottom all evening...but that would cut into the time I've allotted for feeding you the dinner I've prepared."

"What?  You made me dinner?"

"Yes and if you want to eat tonight you'd better start paying attention."

I was about to respond when his hand came down on my butt with a gentle slap.  I wasn't expecting it so I jumped, a surprised giggle bursting out as I squirmed under the restraining pressure of his other hand on my back.  

"How was that?"

"It tickled."

"Tickled?!"  He bounced me again and I gripped his leg tightly to keep from losing my balance.  "Tell me if this tickles then."  He drew back and smacked me, harder, but still not hard enough to do more than sting a little.  I felt my toes curl involuntarily and a little groan escaped my throat.

"Getting better," I whispered, trying to keep my growing arousal from showing in my voice.  But he was a skilled listener and detected it immediately;  his fingers slid slowly down the crevice in the middle of my ass and massaged me slowly, his fingertips teasing first my tight rear opening and then moving slowly down to sample the new wetness that had just begun trickling from between my folds.

"Your wetness is increasing exponentially," he said, his grin audibly visible in his voice.  "I wonder how soaked you'll be after I do this."

I started to say _Do what?_ but didn't have time to even form the words on my tongue before his hand came down on my butt, flat palmed, with a stinging *POP* that made me jump.

"OH!  Oh my god _ow ow ow - "_

His fingers slid down to test my wetness level again, and this time I heard a definite smirk in his low laugh as I squirmed in discomfort.  It wasn't enough to bring tears to my eyes, but the sting lingered, only starting to fade after he rubbed my cheeks soothingly.  "Yes, you're coming along nicely.  But not quite there yet."

_SMACK_

"OW!"  Grinding my face into his knee, I gritted my teeth and muttered a curse under my breath.  He heard it and gave me another quick slap.

"What did you say, young lady?"

"Nothing."

_SMACK!_

"Don't lie to me, I heard you using naughty words like a trashy little guttersnipe.  Tell me what you said."

 _"Ohhh godddd,"_ I moaned, writhing in pain from the last one.  My bottom was still stinging from the previous smack, so the most recent one on top of it had stung twice as much.  "I said _fucking hell."_

"Who taught you to curse like that?" he asked, a menacing note to his voice that made me tense up.  "Who gave you permission to talk like a whore?"

"You did," I said quietly, gripping his leg tightly, ready for the next blow.

"I didn't give you permission," he corrected me, his hand pushing up under me again, cupping me where I was wettest.  "If you insist on speaking like a bad girl I'll be forced to treat you like one."  He was rubbing my underside, sliding his palm around in my juices, wetting his hand.

Oh fuck.

Right about the time I realized what he was doing, he did it.

This smack put all the previous ones to shame.  With his palm soaked, the slap stung more, hurt twice as much, and left me breathless for a moment.  I choked on my own saliva while trying to suck in my breath but he didn't afford me any courtesy - while I was still struggling for breath, he hit me again, holding me down with his other arm across my back when I jumped and struggled against him.

_"Be still!"_

Another smack, just as hard as the previous one.  His hand was still wet and some of the moisture had transferred to my skin with the last blow, so the burning sting of this one was just as bad, if not worse. Against my best efforts, I yelled as soon as contact was made, and he paused.

"Have you had enough, baby?"

I groaned, realizing as the burning slowly abated that there was another burning going on in my body, slightly higher up than my stinging butt cheeks.  I was starting to throb deliciously and wriggled so that I moved forward on his knees, trying to get my warmly aching crotch close enough to his thigh to rub against it.

"No...more, please..."

"No more?" he teased, twisting my words.

"No!  More, I want more...please..."

He felt me struggling to move forward and allowed it, moving his knees closer together to help me.  He knew what I was trying to do.  I thought he might stop me, but he seemed willing to let me pleasure myself this way.  I smiled;  he wasn't going to withhold anything I wanted.  This was _perfect_...he had no pre-set notions about how this should go down, he was letting me do as I pleased while maintaining his position as dominant.  A very sweet, very kind, very very generous dominant.

Emboldened by his lack of cruelty, I scooted further up till I could feel the side of his knee against me.  He shifted a little so that I could spread my legs a bit, exposing more of my sensitive parts to the contact.

"Well," he said in a menacingly sensual voice that dripped with dark honey, "Since you asked _so nicely..."_

I barely had time to tense before he hit me again, his hand aimed lower this time, taking advantage of my new position with my thighs spread. His fingers slapped against my soft underside and I yelped, a high pitched sound that registered somewhere between sharp pain and intense pleasure.  Apparently he liked this new response, because he slipped his hand under me to rub almost roughly over my clit, his breath caressing warmly across my bare back as he exhaled deeply.  When he spoke again, there was the barest hint of heavy desire in his bourbony voice.

"More?"

"Yes."

This time when he hit me, he didn't stop.  Two blows turned into three, then four, and as I lost count and the stinging pain started to overwhelm my control of my senses, the room dimmed momentarily and I saw stars dance behind my eyelids;  I bit down on my lower lip and fought back a cry, my whole body tensing and then going limp, ready and willing, completely accepting, waiting for the next blow.

_"You take this well."_

Tom's voice was deep and dark and through it, behind it, underneath it somewhere, I could hear - or rather, sense - the intense arousal he was keeping in check.  I knew he didn't want to admit, and probably never would, that this was making him hard.  I wouldn't ever call his bluff. There was no need, and since he was doing this strictly for me, it wouldn't be right.

"I...oh god... _I love it..."_ I could barely speak now and I knew I had bitten my tongue, tasting blood.  My words were punctuated with choking sobs and I rubbed my forehead against his thigh, trying to focus myself.

"You've never been spanked before?"  His hand stopped and then touched me gently, moving in a slow circle on my ass, teasing me, soothing the sting that was no longer abating in between blows.  My voice was raspy and it took effort to get my words out.

"Never."

"Not even when you were little?  Daddy never spanked you?"

"No...I was a good girl."  I sobbed a little and tried to slow my breathing, but it was getting hard to pull oxygen into my lungs around the convulsions of my diaphragm.

He shifted me a little, unsettling my comfortable position and forcing me to squirm a bit to take the pressure of his knee off my hipbones. "You're still a good girl," he said quietly, with a soft tone to his voice that made me feel intensely warm inside.  His praise always gave me shivers of happiness, whether he was telling me I looked nice in my suit as I left for work or if he was reminding me of what a good mate I was to him. It never failed to make me feel like a child bringing home a straight A report card.  "You're _my_ good girl, aren't you baby," he said gently, his left hand massaging the back of my neck, his right rubbing comfortingly at the small of my back.

Finally, he'd said it.  Laing had said it so many times...and as much as I hated hearing it from him, it always gave me a warm happy sensation in the pit of my stomach.  I could only remember Tom saying it once and I always wished he would tell me more often, if for nothing else than to cancel out the times it had dripped from Laing's lips.  I squeezed his knee and nodded.   _"Yes, I am."_

His hand on my back was soothing, relaxing, until it suddenly stopped and he asked, "Are you ready to continue?"

I gasped at the thought of it - did I want any more of this?  He'd said what I'd been subconsciously wanting to hear...he was dominating me in the way I desired, and reassuring me of everything I already knew, but had needed to hear from him.  I had everything I wanted.  Did I need more proof of his love for me, of his willingness to give me anything I wanted or needed?  

"Yes," I whispered, feeling suddenly needy.  It was directly related to the warm ache between my legs and I knew he would understand what I needed now.

His hand slid down my rear, his fingers slipping easily into the crevice and moving slickly down, further, rubbing tantalizingly over my asshole and past it to slide smoothly into my folds, pushing up into my vagina without slowing or hesitating.  He sank them deeply into me, rubbing and stroking me inside till I squirmed and moaned, arching my back and wriggling halfheartedly to distance myself from his probing fingers.  

"Shhh, be still little one," he chastised as his thumb went down to my clit and began rubbing in little circles.  His touch was firm and I felt the warmth in my stomach escalate quickly into a heavy sparking burn that spread, filling my lower body with an intensely pleasurable tension.  He laughed quietly as his other fingers stroked over my outer folds, slicking them with my moisture.  "Your sweet little pussy is swelling..." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my shoulder blade, making me shiver with their sudden warmth and the intimate sensation of his mouth on my skin.  "You're so engorged and soft...I don't know if pain is what you need now."

I shook my head, agreeing with him silently as my toes curled in the rug below our feet.   _"No...I need..."_  I couldn't finish, he was bringing me so achingly close to climax that my words were refusing to form. _"I need..."_

"What do you need, baby?  Tell me."  He withdrew his fingers from inside me and caressed lightly over my swollen labia, pressing into the puffy soft flesh.  "Tell me what you need, Anja.  I'll give you anything."  He kissed my back again, very softly. " _I'll give you everything."_

I don't even know what happened or why, but I started crying.  He shushed me gently, knowing my tears weren't from the pain of the last blows to my behind.  Even though they were bruisingly hard, he had held back from truly hitting me hard enough for it to be unbearable.  His big warm hand moved up to my bottom to rub soothingly over the heated impact marks, very lightly tickling over my sensitive cheeks to make me wriggle on his lap.  Through my crying I giggled a little and he patted me, letting me get comfortable again.  "If you don't answer me I'm going to make my own assumption about what you need.  I could be right...I could also be wrong."  He very lightly stroked the backs of his fingers down over my warmly pulsating girly bits and back up again, just barely touching my clit before abandoning it.  "Is that a chance you want to take?"

I giggled again, the heated arousal taking on a different aspect as he gently played with me.  This shift to tenderness was beautiful and I didn't want it to end, but the throbbing was getting worse and I didn't want it to fade before it became something even better.  "I need you to touch me," I finally whispered, my voice barely more than a whimper.

He gave my labia a playful tweak with his finger and thumb, making me flinch.  "I _am_ touching you, baby girl."  He rubbed and massaged me, sliding his fingers in and out of my folds, down to my clit and quickly back up, teasing just enough to keep me on the brink.  I felt so blissed out that I couldn't even find specific enough words to tell him what I wanted.  "Do you need me to relieve you?" he finally asked, a hint of amusement in his voice at the realization that I was beyond coherent thought.  "Hmm?  Do you need me to help you?  Or shall I just let you grind yourself against my knee and take what you want?"

"Nooo," I groaned, pushing my bottom up so that his hand was pressed more firmly against my underside.  "Please, Tom...please help me...I want you to do it."

"Alright, baby," he said, his voice taking on an edge of authority again.  "I'm going to stroke you until you come, and I want you to lie still for me.  Do you hear me?"  I nodded, biting my lip in anticipation as he shifted me around on his lap again.  "Do you understand?  Lie still."

I gripped his thigh tightly, burying my face in the worn denim, feeling the softly frayed edge of the ripped fabric and his skin beneath it.  My senses were hyper attuned and I was suddenly aware of the scent of his skin beneath his jeans, the smell of my own arousal, the new leather of his boot laces.   _Lie still, lie still_ I repeated over and over in my head as his fingers probed their way back into my folds again, teasing and rubbing, slipping wetly and warmly down to stimulate my clit with quick strokes that brought me so quickly to the edge that I groaned in delicious agony, my whole body tensing in anticipation and a deep, painful need for release.

And then he gave it to me, choosing not to torment me, but to give me a quick and intense orgasm that pulsed through me so deeply, so intensely and thoroughly, that I screamed into his knee when it hit me. He withdrew the stimulation when I tensed, knowing instinctively how much was too much, then gently touched me again as the waves throbbed over me, helping to prolong the pleasure with soft taps and light, quick strokes.  It seemed like it would never end, and when it finally did, leaving my belly clenching and my inner muscles tugging and pulling at his fingers, I groaned into his leg and turned my face to the side, letting him stroke my cheek as I lay limp, catching my breath.  He moved the knee under my hips slowly, rocking me, lulling me into complete relaxation as my body began losing its tension and followed my mind into a sated sense of satisfaction unlike anything I'd ever felt before.

 

Later, we lay in bed next to one another, our bodies not touching, but our hands lazily stroking each other's fingers on the mattress between us. 

"How'd you get so good at that so fast?"

"I Googled it."

"You Googled spanking?"

He nodded.  "There's a lot of kinky shit on there, you know it?  It's like the Marquis de Sade wrote the internet."

"What else did you learn?"

"That I can hang you upside down safely for fourteen minutes before you start to have breathing issues."

I sat up and stared at him.  He stared back at me, his face dead serious, before he finally broke into laughter.

"Your face," he smirked.  I lay back down, only mildly reassured that he was joking.

"I need to go see Emma," he said after a while, when I was almost asleep.  I waited, expecting him to say more, but he didn't;  he just lay there in the semi darkness, staring at the ceiling, his fingers still stroking slowly over mine.

"Okay...would you like me to go with you?"

I concentrated on his hand touching mine, thinking there would be some telltale sign to let me know how he was feeling, but there was nothing. No tremor, no tremble, not even a pause in the lazy stroking when I volunteered to go.  After a long while he crinkled his nose a bit, sniffling. He'd been having trouble breathing at night and I knew he wasn't crying, but the sound ripped at my heart and it was all I could do not to wrap myself around him and try to comfort him.  His demeanor didn't seem reciprocal to contact though, so I refrained, just leaving my hand where it was so he could continue running his finger over my knuckles.

"Yeah, you can go if you'd like.  I'd like you to."  He turned his head and looked at me, finally, his eyes resting at my mouth for a long moment before coming up to my eyes.  "You can meet her.  She'll just think you're someone from the home."

I nodded, not really knowing what to say.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	26. Chapter 26

 

 

The trip to Stonebrooke was quiet, as I had expected it would be.  Tom was wrapped up tightly in his silent little cocoon of self preservation, a place I'd become accustomed to seeing him burrow into ever since the road trip, whenever he was worried or upset.  I didn't try to lure him out of it with small talk or questions;  he tended to get surly when his defense mechanisms were tampered with and I was nervous enough myself to either lash back or start crying if he raised his voice to me.  I didn't know what we were going to find at Stonebrooke and Tom had told me very little as way of preparation.

When we rounded the corner onto the grounds and the big stately old building came into view, Tom heaved a heavy sigh and reached over to put his hand on my shoulder.

"You know I can't let her see me, right?"  I nodded and he continued.  "You can talk to her if you want to.  She won't know who you are, of course.  You can let her think you're someone from the staff, or you can tell her who you are."  He finally looked at me, dragging his eyes away from the front of the building just long enough for me to see how wet they were.  "Just don't mention me."

I nodded again, putting my hand on his for a second before he removed it from my shoulder and pulled away.  The open door of his eyes had closed again, leaving me sitting outside, wondering what I was supposed to do next.

 

Emma was in the day room, sitting quietly by the windows, staring into nothing just as the ward supervisor had said she would be.  Tom stayed behind in the hallway, close enough to peek around the door when he felt ready.  I watched her for a moment before I approached her, surprised at how pretty she was, so delicate and pale skinned, with ash blonde hair that fell halfway down her back, combed straight and well tended.  She looked nothing like Tom...polar opposites seemed a fitting description of their contrasting colors.  But when I got close enough that she sensed my presence and turned to look at me, I had to swallow a gasp before it came out.  Her eyes were the same color as his, a kaleidoscope of turquoise blues and greens.

"Are you Tommy's wife?"

I froze where I stood, staring at her in shock.  Nobody had told her we were coming, there was no reason for her to think I had anything to do with her brother.  I looked back toward the door in panic, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tom for some courage, but he wasn't there.  It took me a long moment to get my thoughts under control enough to respond.

"Why would you think that, Emma?"

"Because I had a dream that he was married."  I was standing a few feet away and she was looking at the silver band on my thumb, her face completely blank.  "Where are the others?"

"Others?"

"The rest.  The ones who go everywhere with you.  The ones that howl."  She looked past me, toward the doors.  "Are they here?  Is Tommy here?"  She tipped her head up and started sniffing the air.  "He could always find people with his nose.  He was a bit of a freak sometimes."

I didn't know what to say to any of it, so I addressed none of it.  "Emma, do you need anything?  Is there anything that you want or that they can't get you here?"

"He's dead, isn't he?  My sweet Tommy...I killed him, didn't I?"

"What?"

"You're here to tell me he's gone.  I killed him.  It was an accident, but I saw him bleeding out, so accident or not doesn't matter does it?  On the floor.  He was telling me it was okay, even while he was turning white.  There was so much blood."  Her face was expressionless, and I found that more chilling than what she was saying.  "He killed someone and then I killed him...does that make me God?"  She was looking down at her hands, her entire demeanor just as blank and untelling as it had been when I walked in.  "I punished him for murder...but...it was me that was trying to commit murder, wasn't it?  I try to remember...but...all I can see is red."

"Emma, honey, he's not - "

"He comes to visit me sometimes, but he scares me.  I know he's dead, he shouldn't be here.  I try not to be afraid of him...but you'd be afraid of a ghost, wouldn't you?  If your dead brother was standing across the room looking at you?  Would you be scared?"  She glanced over at the door and I followed her eyes with my own, hoping she hadn't caught a glimpse of Tom.  There was nobody there.

I nodded.  "I absolutely would."

"My poor brother.  He just wanted what was best for me.  Did you know he walked from Detroit to San Diego for me?  My poor skinny brother, he looked half dead when he got here.  Maybe he was already dead and I didn't really kill him.  Maybe he died on the way to me.  His eyes were so haunted, that must have been it.  He was a ghost already."  Her head slowly lowered and her hands came up to cover her face, her long loose sleeves sliding up to reveal red scars like tribal markings up her inner arms.  "He died coming to save me.  I killed him twice."

Her realities were overlapping;  I felt like I should stop her before things became even more convoluted in her mind, but I didn't know how.  

"He used to climb into my bed at night.  I had these dreams, and when I woke up from them he would always be there.  When our dad saw us he didn't like it."  She lowered her hands again and looked at me. "Our stepdad.  Our _real_ dad loved us.  It was our stepdad that wanted to punish us for being together."

"For... _being_  together?"

She smiled a little, the first emotion I'd seen on her face since my arrival.  "Not like that.  We weren't like that.  But _he_ thought we were.  Tommy was only twelve, I was nine.  How can you think something like that about little kids?"  She shook her head in confusion.  "He beat Tommy.  But he wouldn't stop getting in my bed at night, whenever I was scared, even though he knew it was going to mean a beating.  I know now, though, I know why he did it.  It wasn't just because I was scared.  It was because as long as he was in my bed,  _he_  couldn't be."

I tried hard not to let anything show on my face, but behind my carefully blank expression, every negative emotion I was capable of was boiling, making my skin crawl.

"I miss him, mostly at night.  I leave my door open, hoping he'll see it and know it's okay to come in.  Even if he's a ghost.  I still want him to crawl under the covers with me and tell me it's okay, that we'll get out some day.  When we're older and don't need the grownups anymore.  That's all that's holding us back, we're just too young to make it on our own."

I finally sat down, across from her on the sofa.  The furnishings were nice, very Victorian and elegant;  I could see why Tom had chosen this place for her, beside the fact that the doctors and caregivers here were the best in the state.  The decor was equally beautiful and calming, comfortable and conducive to relaxation.  I felt at ease despite the disturbing image of the blank faced woman in front of me.

"Poor Tommy.  He was a good brother.  I hate that I killed him.  Did you know he spent two weeks in a closet because of me?"  She looked at me expectantly, the first time she'd actively engaged me in her conversation.  I nodded and kept silent, not sure if speaking would disturb her.   _"He_ was doing things to me and Tommy caught him.  He was such a skinny kid, but strong.  Strong enough to break our stepdad's jaw with a baseball bat.  Strong enough to knock him into a wall so hard that it caved in the sheetrock.  He was twelve and he did all that for me.  And he got locked up in the closet for it, like an animal."

She stared at me like she expected me to say something;  I froze, my head suddenly empty of anything coherent.  Our eyes locked for a moment and she just kept waiting, till I finally swallowed hard and blinked rapidly, tearing my eyes away from hers long enough to gather my wits.  I don't know why she scared me so much, but in that moment I was terrified.

"What did your mom do?"  I finally asked, my voice more or less a squeak.  She didn't seem to notice and I got the feeling I wasn't the first person to go squeaky around her.

"Mum was working so much, she never saw any of this going on.   _He_ told her Tommy made an F in math and cursed at him when he got onto him about it, and that he was mad about being grounded for his report card and threw a chair at the wall, and that was why he was in the closet.  Then he said _he_ fell down the stairs and broke his jaw, even though he had a bruise across his face that matched Tommy's baseball bat.  But mum was scared of him so she believed him...or maybe she didn't, maybe she just went along with it because she had to.  She wasn't allowed to let Tommy out.  She could open the door in the morning before she left for work to give him some food, but that was all.  When he came out after two weeks, he was different."

She looked at me again, waiting.  I felt a little bit braver now, so I nodded and asked, "How was he different?"

"He was...withdrawn.  Detached.  Didn't care about much of anything, stopped talking, stopped looking at anyone.  Two days after he got out, after not speaking a single word to anyone, he picked up a knife in the kitchen and walked into our stepdad's bedroom while he was passed out drunk.  He woke up just as Tommy was about to slit his throat."

I tried my best to keep my emotions in check, I really did...but the mental image of a twelve-year old Tom viciously trying to murder his stepfather was unsettling at best.  I sat still so as not to disturb Emma, but fidgeted with my hands under my purse in my lap.

"He beat Tommy to within an inch of his life...took the knife away from him and used it to torture him by cutting him across his back...mum came home that night and found him in the closet again, so bloody and bruised and barely conscious...she called the police and had _him_ taken away, finally."  She was staring out the window again, closing her eyes as a cool breeze came through the open pane and ruffled her hair. "But CPS came the next day and took us, too."

An aide approached us and put her hand gently on Emma's shoulder, not saying anything, just leaning over slightly to look her in the face.  Emma made eye contact with her and the aide seemed satisfied that everything was alright;  she glanced over at me and smiled, her expression a relieved visual whisper of _so far so good_ as she left us alone again.

Emma continued as if there had been no interruption.  "I went to one home, Tommy went to another.  He kept causing trouble, getting sent back to CPS.  Nobody could handle him.  He did the typical boy stuff, setting things on fire, getting into fights, mouthing off at people.  He ran away a few times.  He was a mess, my brother."  There was an indulgent smile, the fleeting memory of a young, spirited Tom bringing a brief bit of happiness to her mind.  "This went on for three years, him getting sent around all over the place, out of one foster home and into another.  Then he got violent, like uncontrollably dangerous, and they couldn't find anyone willing to take him except this drill sergeant guy on some military base - but even that guy couldn't control him.  They said as soon as he was fifteen he was going into a juvenile rehabilitation center and wouldn't come out until he was eighteen.  That was when I ended up in San Diego and he ran away for the last time."

She stopped talking, but this was the part I really wanted to hear, so I waited for a moment and then gently tried to urge her into continuing.  "Is that when you lived with the Lenshers?"

She nodded, closing her eyes tight.

"The kid in that family, Eric...he was okay.  Kinda mean, but who wouldn't be with a dad like his.  I wasn't there long before trouble started."  She looked at me for just a second, her eyes questioning.  "Why is there always trouble?"

"I don't know.  It just seems that way though, doesn't it?"

"Yes."  She sighed, fiddling with her hair.  "They let me keep contact with Tommy, that was one thing all the homes allowed us.  CPS always told them we had a 'calming effect' on each other.  They made sure we had phones and whenever he got sent someplace new they'd make sure I didn't lose contact with him.  He would call me and tell me it was going to be okay.  He was having a really shit time, but all he cared about was making sure I was okay.  He made me promise I'd tell him if anyone ever did anything to me, that he would come and deal with them for me.  So when Eric's dad started doing stuff, I told Tommy."  She looked at me, a half smile on her lips, but it wasn't amusement or happiness.  It was almost devious, as if she was telling me a secret that would shock me and make her laugh at my discomfort.  "Do you know what he said?"

I shook my head, not sure I wanted to hear this, just based on the look on her face.

"He said, _Sit tight sis, I'm coming."_

I waited, thinking there was going to be more, something shocking and dark.  But she just grinned at me, a cold smirk that told me there was more to this inside her head than what actually came out her mouth.

"That was sweet of him," was all I could think to say, and she laughed a little.  It sounded bitter.

"Yeah, Tommy was always sweet.  He always knew what to do, and he was always willing to do it, no matter what it was.  No matter how awful it was.  My big brother, the one who could always get it done somehow."  The enigmatic little smile left her face and she grimaced a little, like she was trying to fight back a sudden rush of tears.  But her eyes remained dry.  "I told him I was going to kill him.  I couldn't take him touching me so I was going to do like Tommy had tried to do to our stepdad, I was going to slit his throat in his sleep.   _Sit tight sis,_ Tommy said to me.   _I'm coming.  Don't do it...let me."_

There it was...the horrible dark thing I'd been holding my breath, waiting for.  What she'd had tucked away behind that smile.  She and Tom had more or less plotted out the murder of Eric's dad, together.  He didn't want the blood to be on her hands, so he set out across country to do it himself.  

I knew I should say something, but I had absolutely nothing. 

"Are you a ghost too?"

I jumped a little, startled by the change in her tone of voice.  The darkness had left it, replaced now with an almost childlike curiosity.

"No, honey...I'm not a ghost."

"Then who are you?"

"I'm..."  I hesitated, no clue at all as to how I should answer.  Reality would make no sense to her, and she already had something in her head of me that she seemed happy with.  I decided to go with that.  "I'm Tommy's wife.  Just like in your dream."

She watched me for a moment, her eyes locked to mine, searching, no doubt, for the lie.  And then she smiled, satisfied.

"Good.  He deserved a good life with someone who loved him.  He didn't get that when he was alive."  She nodded, turning to look out the window again.  "I'm glad he has it now."

 

We sat at one of the picnic tables outside in the yard, out of view of the dayroom windows.

"Tom, you're not triggering her.  You're scaring her.  She thinks you're a ghost."

He looked at me with complete confusion and a slack jaw.  "What?"

"Yeah, she thinks she killed you and when you come to visit her you're haunting her.  She's eaten up with guilt that she stabbed you, she thinks you bled out in the Lensher's kitchen that night.  She said she saw you turn white."

He huffed out the same bitter little laugh that Emma had done earlier.  "Of course I turned white, I was bleeding from a four inch knife wound and there was a dead man laying out in the yard  _whose handprints were around my throat."_

"Shhhh," I hushed him, reaching across the table to pat his arm.  The tendons going to his wrist were so taut they felt like they might snap under my hand.  "She doesn't remember the details.  At least not the same ones you do.  It's like her version of it takes a detour right at the point where she picked up the knife."  His eyes were closed and he moved his other hand up to cover them.  "But there's good news.  She doesn't think she killed him."

"No?"

"No."  I hesitated to continue, knowing it would bring yet another jolt of pain to him.  "She thinks you did.  She doesn't seem to remember going at him with the knife or pushing you. That part isn't in her recall at all."

He stared at the stone table between us, his eyes going from the slate to my hand on top of his.  "Good.  I was always afraid she remembered."  He looked at me, nodding his head.  "That's what I want. She can think I did it until she dies, that's fine with me."

Neither of us spoke again for a long while.  He turned on the stone bench so that he was half facing away from me, his eyes closed, his face upturned, maybe thinking about the past, maybe just enjoying the cool breeze on his skin.  It blew his hair gently and for a brief moment he looked so serene and peaceful that he could have been an angel statue in a cemetery, guarding the grave of a loved one.  Immediately after the thought crossed my mind, I realized it was closer to truth than I wanted to think about.

This place was his sister's grave and he was her angel statue, hard and resolute, unable to do anything except watch over her, his face chiseled into a brave, emotionless passivity that hid the sorrow that had created it.

 

The following day I wasn't feeling well and took off work early to get some rest.  I felt like it was probably the emotional stress of talking to Emma, but I told Tom I thought I was trying to come down with something.  He told me to come to the pub and nap in the back so he could look in on me, which was exactly what I wanted - so I obeyed, letting him tuck me in on the office sofa and kiss me on the forehead before he went back to work.

I was just starting to doze when I heard the crackling of the phone's intercom and realized someone had left it on.  I could hear the sounds of the kitchen, of Ewan laughing at something unintelligible and the walk-in fridge door slamming shut - then Tom's voice, singing softly.  I turned over in the dark to listen.  He knew the intercom was on, he knew I was listening.  I covered my smile with my hand and lay there wrapped up in my blanket, letting the dark golden honey of his voice wash over me.

  
_You're in my heart, you're in my soul_  
_You'll be my breath should I grow old_  
_You are my lover, you're my best friend_  
_You're in my soul_  
  
_My love for you is immeasurable_  
_My respect for you immense_  
_You're ageless, timeless, grace and fineness_  
_You're beauty and elegance_  
  
_You're a rhapsody, a comedy_  
_You're a symphony and a play_  
_You're every love song ever written_  
_But honey what do you see in me_

 

At the end he continued humming until I started to feel drowsy, closing my eyes and still smiling with my face tucked under the blanket.  I felt happy and warm inside.  I could hear him moving around the kitchen, opening and closing the oven doors, chopping apples for the pie I was going to make later...I could see him in my head, his long back bent over the countertop, his big hands gripping the knives gracefully, his silky black hair pulled back behind his shoulders in a loose ponytail.  His lips pursed as he whistled the tune - he was whistling now, softly - a small smile tugging up the corners of his lips.  This was how I always saw him when I closed my eyes.

And when I opened them, he was sitting beside me on the edge of the sofa, that small smile tugging up the corners of his lips just like I'd imagined it.  I assumed he was in my dream and felt relieved that he wasn't ripping anyone's throat out this time;  when he laid his warm hand across my forehead, I sighed at how comfortingly real this dream felt.

"Are you awake?"

"No."

"Good.  Stay asleep."  He leaned over and replaced his hand with his lips, kissing me softly, whispering against my skin.   _"You are my lover, you're my best friend...you're in my soul."_

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	27. Chapter 27

 

 

I was sitting in the break room at work with my eyes closed, waiting for my coffee to cool down enough to drink.  I still wasn't feeling great but we were getting backlogged and I couldn't wrangle any more time off for a while.  Laing was sending Kady and another girl from Acquisitions to the London office to backup train for the position that had been offered to me...I didn't regret my decision to turn it down, not for a second, but it still gave me a little bit of perverse satisfaction knowing that it was taking two people to do the job that they'd felt I could do alone.  The fact that it was Kady filling one of the spots was something of a victory as well, since she could now smirk at me and feel good about being transferred to London instead of me.  She didn't know I'd been chosen and turned it down or that she was only going as a default alternative.  I was glad she was going to get the chance to do something big - and if she wanted to think she'd done better than me for once, then I planned to let her.  She'd never gotten over what she seemed to think was the unforgivable betrayal of me laying claim to Tom when she had liked him for so long.  I knew that had really broken her heart.

"Hey Anja - you think Tom would let us have the pub for a couple of hours Thursday night?"

I hadn't seen the two guys from suite 22 come in.  I opened my eyes and realized I'd been almost asleep, in that state of wakeful dozing that hits somewhere between 2:30 and 5:00.

"For Kady's party?  Yeah, I don't see why not.  I'll book it for you."

"What pub?" the other one asked as he poured himself a cup.  Three more associates walked in and joined us and I sat up straight, trying to rouse myself back into wakefulness.  I was going to have to stop letting Tom bang me into oblivion every night until I'd caught up on some rest. He was so needy and aggressive lately and it was wearing me out.

"Tommy's on 4th."

"Oh yeah, run by that big indian guy, I love that place."

I gave him a weird look, surprised to hear Tom referred to that way.

"He's Cree - and why did everybody know that except me?"

"What, you couldn't tell by looking at him?"

One of the interns that had just joined us was nodding and starting to laugh.  "That guy's insane, he moves like a _cat,_ I've never seen such a big human being with the kind of stealth he's got.  Me and my buddy took him with us to get my sister's stuff from her ex's house and he was in and out the third floor window like he was that smoke monster thing from Lost.  It was kinda creepy."

I stood up to get the creamer from the fridge.  "Don't be encouraging my boyfriend to break the law, apparently it's an easy sell for him."

Laing walked in just then and looked at each of us as we all fell silent, putting his hands out in a palms-up gesture of _ahh come on guys_ as we went back to our coffee and bagels.  "Is there a party and I'm not invited or something?"

I glanced around, then decided without thinking that maybe exposing him to Tom on Tom's territory might be a good thing.  I wasn't sure why, and there was no real reasoning behind it in my head, but before I'd given it two seconds of thought I opened my mouth and invited him.

"Just some of us having a little thing for Kady.  It's at Tom's pub if you'd like to come."

His eyebrows went up and he appeared to be thinking about it.  After a few seconds, he nodded and smiled, a genuine smile, not his boardroom shark smile.

"I just might show up for a drink or two.  Does he serve dark ale?"

"He serves just about anything you could ever want."

"Hmm, does he."  

One by one the others shuffled out to return to their offices and cubicles, leaving me, one of the guys from 22, and Laing.  He glanced over at the other guy and then moved close to me as I stood at the sink rinsing my cup.  I knew he was right behind me but I pretended not to notice until he leaned in closer and whispered, "Are _you_ on the menu?"

I faked surprise at his sudden voice in my ear and jumped, spinning around with my cup full of soapy water, splashing it across the front of his pants in an accident so well staged that it could have earned me double Oscars for choreography _and_ acting.  Laing had been slipping back into his flirtatious ways lately and I figured any strike that I got in was fair play.

"Oh shit, I am _so_ sorry,  _sir."_ I grabbed a towel and handed it to him as he stood there with his arms out to his sides, staring down at his soaked crotch in shock before finally taking the proffered towel from my hand and shifting his eyes back to mine, one eyebrow raised high.  I could tell he suspected it had been no accident, but I just tapped my watch and brushed past him.  "Gotta get back to work, that summation isn't going to compose itself."  I paused at the door and smiled back at him.  "Sorry about the soaking...it's just soapy water, it'll dry clear in an hour or two."

 

On my way home I called Tom and told him I'd be there soon - I needed to shower first because I'd touched Laing and I didn't want him smelling him on me.  Things had been pretty stressful since our visit with Emma and he wasn't reacting well to negative stimuli, but with the strong chance that he'd still catch a least a whiff of his nemesis even after I'd showered, I told him exactly what I was doing and why.  He said it was okay, but his voice had an unsettling edge to it.

When I got to the pub, my hair still damp and the shoulders of my shirt wet from it, Tom glanced over at me and gave me a little smile.  He and Ewan were doing the monthly inventory so the pub was closed till that night and we were alone out front, with Ewan banging around in the kitchen.  I went up and kissed Tom, then settled in on a barstool to look over the papers he had strewn everywhere - I excelled at detail work and he always had me look over the lists for him, but after a minute I laid them down and stared at him, willing him to look at me.  He didn't.  It was going to be another one of those days, with him ignoring me while I tried with rising annoyance to get him to pay attention to me.

I decided to go straight for the big guns, despite knowing I was about to bring up an intensely touchy subject.

"Emma said your dad - your real dad - loved you guys.  What happened to him?"  Tom shot me a warning look and didn't say anything.  "You said he left you right after you got to Michigan from England.  Why'd he leave?"

He shook his head a little, letting me know without words that he had no intention of answering my questions, exactly as I'd expected.

"Tom, come on - if he loved you, why don't you want to talk about him?"

"Be quiet Anja," he finally snapped.  "I don't want to talk about my dad."  I opened my mouth to say something but he held up a finger in my face.  "Not another word."

I knew better than to push him, but I didn't feel like backing off.  It irritated me when he did me like this and my ire was already up because of Laing's shenanigans.  "She kept saying you were a ghost, she even asked me if I was one.  Your dad was Cree, right?  Did he tell you stories about spirits and things?  Because maybe that's what she meant - "

He slapped his hands down on the bar with a resounding _THWACK_  and glared at me, his face just inches from mine.  "You're not going to shut up, are you?"

I frowned, my feelings hurt a little by his rudeness even though I'd known it was coming.  I waited a few seconds while he stared at me, then nodded my defeat and scowled at him as he put his hand on the side of my neck to give me a squeeze, his way of calling an apologetic truce.

"So are you?" I asked.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, making no attempt to hide his exasperation.

"Am I what?"

"A ghost."

He frowned at me, dipping one eyebrow to give me his best disapproving look, then reached across the bar and thumped me in the middle of the forehead.

"Ow!"

"You felt that?"

"Yes!"

"Then I'm not a ghost I guess."

I reached up and popped him on the forehead with the backs of my knuckles;  he blinked hard and stared at me like he was going to push me off my barstool.

"Did you feel that?"

"Fuck...yeah, I did."  He rubbed his forehead and glared at me.

"Okay then, I guess you're right, you're not a ghost."

He slowly pulled the towel off his shoulder and started to come around the bar, his eyes locked onto me, a mean little smirk darkening his expression.  When I saw he was twisting the towel, I got down off my stool and grabbed an empty bottle.

"Don't come any closer," I warned, whacking the bottle on the edge of the bar, thinking it would break dramatically like they do in the movies.  It just bounced off the smooth wooden edge and remained annoyingly in one piece.  Tom gave his towel one more twist until it was tightly rat tailed and flicked it at me, giving me a solid stinging pop on the outer thigh.

"SHIT dammit dammit - oh god ow!"  I danced around, holding my leg and yelping.  Tom started to twist the towel again, still advancing slowly.

"Once upon a time there was a little girl named Anja who  _minded her own fucking business."_

"Yeah and once upon a time you weren't such a little bitch."

He looked at me like he was going to murder me, but I was beyond irritated with his attitude.  He'd been mean to me all that morning and apparently had some aggression he needed to work out, but for some reason he hadn't come to me to help with it.  That made me angrier than his bitchiness.  I decided it was time to exercise my rights as an equal alpha.  

"Get in the damn office, jackass.  If you pop me again I swear to god I'll shave your head while you sleep."  I held my arm out, pointing to the back room, staring him down.  Past his shoulder I could see Ewan cracking up behind his hands, trying not to let anyone know he had come out of the kitchen just in time to catch our altercation.  I brought my eyes back to Tom's and pointed again.   _"GO."_

To my surprise, he did as he was told, swinging the towel back over his shoulder and keeping his eyes locked to mine as he sauntered off to the back.  I watched him till he kicked the door open and held it, giving a sweeping gesture with his arm that indicated I should go in first.  I shot Ewan a warning look - he had given up trying to be invisible and was openly laughing at us now - and put the bottle down.

 _"Shut up_  Ewan and get back in the kitchen," I snarled as I marched to the office and breezed past Tom, pulling my shirt off over my head before the door even shut behind us.

 

We spent the next twenty minutes or so having angry, brutal, decidedly ungentle sex on the floor in front of the sofa.  Apparently he didn't want me to have the comfort of the cushions under my back as he pounded into me, so he dragged me off it before I had a chance to get comfortable and we went at it on the rug, fighting for top position, wrestling until he had finally had enough of me challenging his right to the top and resorted to overpowering me.  I scratched his neck and he slapped me on the inside of the thigh, hard enough to sting viciously and leave a handprint on my skin.  I pulled his hair and scratched and bit him, but there was nothing in me that wanted him off me, nothing that wanted him to get away from me no matter how angry I was with him.  And he knew it.  He gave what he got, handling me roughly, almost  _too_  roughly, biting me and yanking me around until I was settled beneath him, shoving my legs apart and holding them open with his own body as I pushed and shoved against him.  Neither of us said  _no,_  neither of us said  _stop,_ and when he yanked my jeans down and started to push his fingers into me he found me wet and ready despite my angry protests.  A wicked grin tugged at his lips and he bit harshly at my collarbone as I put up one last insincere effort to deflect him.

"Fuck you, Tom."

"Oh you  _will."_

We looked at each other for a long moment, finally breaking into snickering laughs in between me hitting at his shoulders and him grabbing my hands to pin them above my head.

 _"Make it hurt, baby,"_  I whispered.

 

When we were done, Tom rolled over onto his back beside me but left his leg across mine, keeping me pinned so that I couldn't move away from him.  I didn't care to - my back hurt from his vigorous thrusting grinding my spine into the hard floor and I just wanted to lay still for a while and recover.  He rubbed his eyes and pushed his hair back off his forehead.

"Mum kicked him out."

"Hmm?"

"You asked why my dad left.  My mum...she made him leave.  It's just easier to say he abandoned us, instead of looking it straight in the face and knowing that none of it, none of the shit that happened to me and Emma, would have ever happened if she hadn't."

"Why'd she do that?  He loved you guys, right?  He was a good dad?"

"I dunno that he was a good dad, but yeah, he loved us."

I reached over and stroked his hair, letting the heavy strands fall through my fingers.  "You look like him, don't you."

He nodded, rubbing his face with his palm, squinting as he inhaled deeply.  "Yeah, the older I get the more I do.  A couple of months ago when I went to check on Em, she saw me for a second and thought dad had come to see her."

"And she looks like your mom."

"Yeah.  I guess you could say it's a bit confusing for both of us, emotionally."

He rolled back over onto me and let his head drop next to mine;  I listened to him breathe against my ear while I rubbed the back of his neck.  His muscles were still tense and he didn't sound good.  "You're all stuffed up again."

"I'm fine."

"You always say that and then you snore like a rhino all night."

"So make me sleep on the sofa."

"I don't want you to sleep on the sofa, I want you to sleep with me."  I squeezed his shoulders and kissed the side of his head.  His hair smelled like hops from the beer he'd been brewing in the back and I buried my face in it, inhaling deeply, sighing when I felt him relax against me with a little moan.  He loved it when I messed with his hair.  He loved it when _anyone_  messed with his hair, and it was always surprising to me how many people did so throughout the day...I'd seen perfect strangers reach up to stroke it while he talked to them, and he always moved a step closer, that tiny curl at each corner of his lips beginning to tip upward.  I knew it calmed him and wondered if that was why he kept it so long, a subconscious invitation for everyone around him to offer him the comfort of contact under the guise of satisfying their own desire to touch that incredible black mane.  He even bent his knees to help women reach easier.  I gripped a handful and gave it a tug.

His reaction was immediate and visceral as his shoulders tensed again and he pushed his hips against me, making me feel his sudden hardness against my inner thigh.  He was lying so close, his body touching mine from top to bottom, that as he stiffened his cock pushed right up into my folds without either of us doing any maneuvering.   _"It knows where home is,"_ he whispered against my ear, giving that sensitive bump behind it a lick as he pushed himself the rest of the way inside me.  I groaned as he slid in, amazed as always at how such a huge thing always managed to fit somehow.

"Tom..."

"Yeah baby."

"I - "

He raised his hand to my mouth, laying one finger across my lips to shush me.

"I know.  Me too."

 

Round two was fast and rough, though not nearly as out of control as the first time, and he seemed frustrated by the time we were finished.  I didn't ask him what was wrong - I knew better, and I also knew that when he got like this the best thing I could do was just be beside him, sharing space but not crowding him, both physically and emotionally.  Eventually he sighed heavily and sat up, pushing me to the side so he could stand and pull his jeans on.  He left them open and sat down on the sofa, letting his head drop back while I settled in beside him; his arm went around me and I thought for a moment that he was going to cuddle me, but his other hand came up to my throat and squeezed, harder than I liked.

"Hey!   _Don't -"_

"Shhhh...baby, I need you to do something for me."

"Fine I'll do it," I fussed, trying to pull his hand off my neck.  "Just don't choke me, you know I don't like that."

"I know."  He squeezed a little harder before he let go and I shoved his hand away, sucking my breath in hard.  He watched me intently and I knew he was gauging my reactions...which meant something twisted was about to happen.  "Please do as I ask," he said quietly.

I shook my head, leaning over to pick up my clothes.  Whatever was about to happen, I had a very bad feeling about it and I wasn't in the mood to play any rough games - at least not any rougher than we'd just played.  I had a feeling this was going to top it easily.

"I had sort of a _day_ and I'd rather not have any weird kink dumped on me.  Can I just rub your temples or something?"

Before I could sit back up from retrieving my clothes he grabbed me and pulled me over onto his lap, turning me so that I was facing him.  I was straddling him and he reached behind me to grab my ankles, crossing them behind me and pulling so that I was immobilized.  It hurt a little, but I knew it could hurt a lot worse if I moved, so I sat perfectly still and glared at him.

 _"Don't you dare,"_ I hissed.  He gave my ankle a tug and I felt my knee pop with a sharp little jolt of pain.  I winced, falling forward against his chest as the tug pulled me off balance, struggling to push myself back upright with my hands on his shoulders as I snarled, "Don't you fucking hurt me Thomas Adam Heyworth, I swear I'll scream for help."

He was grinning at me, but his eyes were deadly serious when he licked his lips and whispered, _"Hit me Anja."_

I stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out if he was wrestling with something dark or if this was a bit of fun, before I remembered, _he doesn't hit for fun._  I immediately made up my mind and said no, but he wasn't about to let me refuse him. _  
_

"Yes.  I need you to."  He gave my ankle a yank, upward this time, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from cursing him.  "Don't make me put your collar on you."

My mouth dropped open and I almost protested in anger, but I quickly realized - he wouldn't use my collar as a threat.  Not ever.   _He must really need this._

"Why Tom?  Tell me why."  He was shaking his head but I wasn't about to let him do this without a reason.  I had given him permission to hurt me earlier while we were having sex, but the sex was over now and my permission didn't go beyond that - and he knew it.  "If you're not going to give me a good reason, then you can let go of me right now and let me get out of here while you do whatever it is you've gotta do. Or you can tell me what your problem is and let me help you solve it or deal with it, whichever you think you need."

His eyes never left mine and I started to feel unnerved...I could see all the colors in his irises, swirled and mixed together to create the beautiful turquoise blue that you saw from a distance, but which up close were actually bright little crystals of individual colors.  Such pretty eyes...but the way they were looking at me was making my stomach knot up, and I wished that he would look away.

"I need you to do this for me.  Don't ask me why Anja, just do it.  Please."  His thumb was stroking my ankle soothingly, but it was doing nothing to calm my nerves.  "If you need me to provoke you, then give me permission."

I thought about it for a long, tense moment, holding his stare, waiting for him to blink or myself to flinch.  Neither of us gave in, until finally I sighed with resignation and nodded my approval.

"Fine.  Provoke me.  But nothing sexual - I mean it Tom."

He nodded, his eyes softening a bit as he let go of my ankles and slid his hands up my bare thighs.  I gave him a scolding look and he immediately moved one from my leg to my throat, gripping gently with his long fingers, wrapping them nearly all the way around my neck.

"I won't choke you, baby.  If you cough even once I'll stop."  He brought his other hand up and pressed it over my mouth, moving one finger up over my nose, getting ready to block my air completely.  I knew now what he was going to do.   _He needs control._  I nodded again and he moved a second finger up, and I could no longer breathe.

The hand around my throat squeezed and I closed my eyes, giving myself a good thirty seconds without air before I let my temper go and started to struggle.  He held me tightly, his fingers digging into my face and neck, inciting my anger quicker as he began whispering to me, his seductive voice taking on a decidedly unfriendly tone as he suddenly removed his hand from my face and gripped the back of my head.

"Did you fuck Laing today?"

I gasped for air and held onto his arms as I swayed a little, slightly dizzy, realizing after a moment what he'd said to me.

"What?"

"I said - "  He yanked me up close to his face so that I could feel his breath on my lips - _"Did...you...fuck...Laing?"_

Before I could respond he slapped his hand over my mouth and nose again, but I yanked my head back hard in a futile attempt to break out of his grip on my neck.  "Don't you dare!"

"Don't dare what?  Hmm?  Don't ask you why you smell like him?  Don't ask you why you had to take a shower before you could even get near me?  Don't ask _where exactly you had to scrub the hardest_ to wash his scent away before I caught a whiff of it?"  He gripped my neck tighter and gave me a hard shake.  "Did you spray perfume in your panties just in case it wasn't all gone?"

I swung for his face before I even realized what I was doing.  It was a hard punch, square in the mouth, and my knuckles seized up in pain as soon as it was landed.  The movies don't tell you how bad it hurts to hit someone in the face.

He let go of my neck but moved his hands to my shoulders to keep me from falling off his lap, as I was thrown off balance by the force of the blow.  I think he thought I was going to hit him again, but once was enough - my sudden burst of rage was gone the moment my fist made contact with his mouth, and the throbbing pain in my hand distracted me from any desire to smack him a second time.  His face was turned to the side, and when he turned back to me again I saw a rivulet of dark red blood well up and slide down his chin.

He let his head drop back to the back of the sofa, closing his eyes and letting go of my shoulders.  I watched him for a little while, flexing my fingers to make sure they weren't broken, trying hard not to look at the steadily increasing flow of blood from his split lip, then slipped off his lap and gathered my clothes.  I was headed for the bathroom to get dressed when he grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

"Don't go, baby.  Stay."

I tried to pull away, wanting desperately to put space between us.  "I'm sorry, I can handle most of your...deviances...but that was a little too much for me.  I need to get away from you for a little while."

He sighed, not looking at me, not letting go of my hand.  "You're a good girl, Anja.  You're _my_ good girl.  You did what I asked."

"You know I'm not a violent person, you shouldn't make me do things like that."

"Yes, and I also know you're anything I need you to be.  And you're good at it."

"I don't know if I want to be good at this."

He pulled at my hand, tugging me back down onto his lap again.  "Anja, you distract _from_ pain _with_ pain.  Same way you pinch someone when you're pulling off a bandaid, or you bite a virgin's earlobe when you're breaking her.  One pain takes your mind off the other."  He let go of me, moved his hand to his chest where he rubbed himself absently for a moment.  His voice was very quiet when he spoke again.  "My heart hurts.  A busted lip gives me something else to think about."

"For how long?  A few minutes?  A couple of hours?"

"Long enough."  He rubbed at his chin with the back of his hand and another trickle of blood fell to replace what he'd wiped away.  "Baby...thank you.  You know I wouldn't ask you to do anything I didn't think you'd be okay with."

"I'm not okay with this," I protested petulantly, staring at his mouth.  "Your lip is bleeding really bad."

"I seem to recall you biting the shit out of me once and it bled for two days."

"Yeah and I was squicked as hell over it and still am.  But that was different.  I wasn't...in control, I didn't do it on purpose."

He gave me a look of  _you know better than that_  while very subtly shaking his head, his eyes holding mine.  Then his smile finally came back, a small and tired smile, but it was sincere at least.  I reached out to hesitantly touch his lip and wiped away some of the blood with my thumb.

"What's wrong with your heart, big guy?"

"Emma."

I sighed.  "Yeah."

He let me go and I went into the bathroom, but I didn't get dressed;  instead I returned with a damp rag and gently dabbed at his lip with it, cleaning the blood away, sliding my finger between his lips to check if I'd broken any teeth.  He seemed okay and the cut didn't extend into his mouth, so I wiped away the rest and then held the rag to his face, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.  And through it all he watched me, letting me take care of him, not saying anything.

When I had pulled his hand up to hold the rag in place and moved away to get dressed, he finally reached out and laid his other hand on my back while I was sitting next to him, bent over pulling my jeans on.

"You're my family, Anja...you know that, don't you?"

"Yes."  I stood up to wriggle into my jeans and then sat back down to pull my bra and shirt on.  "But I'm not all you have anymore, am I?  You've got Chris, and Ewan...you've had them for a long time, way longer than you've had me.  And there's Emma, she's still here.  And now you have Cara and Tricia.  Seems to me like you suddenly have more family than you know what to do with."

His smile turned wistful and he tugged at my hair as I leaned back to zip my jeans.  "But you're the one who's standing by me no matter what, doing whatever it takes to make things okay."

"Only because Ewan doesn't have a vagina."  I pulled my shoe on and fished around under the sofa for the other one.  "Although I'd bet this bar that he'd grow one for you."

He laughed softly.  "Naww, he's straight."

"No, he's as bi as they come.  He'd do you and me both if we invited him in."

"You think?"

"Wanna find out?"

He shook his head, moving the towel from his lip to look at the blood.  "Not really." 

I stared at him for a minute, suddenly realizing just how much I loved him...a strange thing to think about when my knuckles were already starting to bruise from hitting him.  I let my eyes fall to the waist of his jeans, where the top of his tattoo was visible above it.  I stroked his sharp hipbone, where the fiercely fanged muzzle of the wolf was inked into his skin.

"I finally know who you are," I whispered, leaning over to kiss where my fingers were stroking him.  He grunted in response, his hands coming up to tangle in my hair.  "I think you're Fenrir.  The son of a fallen god, punished for his father's wrongdoing.  Tied up and bound until you finally broke free to wreak havoc."  I looked up at him, then reached up to take a handful of his hair, pulling him down so that I could kiss him gently on the side of his mouth that wasn't injured.  "You asked me once where my boundaries are and where I draw the line, remember that?"

He nodded and I let go of his hair, standing up to button my jeans.

"Don't break my heart.   _That's_  where I draw the line."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	28. Chapter 28

 

 

Tom's frame of mind improved drastically after I punched him in the mouth, though he was unashamedly open about what happened when people asked him how he split his lip and I became something of a hero around the pub for a few days.  First Ewan, then Chris either high-fived me or tipped a bottle to me very time I walked in.  I tried to ignore them but they seemed glad I'd done it.  I finally asked Chris why.

"He's been a dick for like a week now," he told me, casting a glance toward the back where Tom had just gone into the office.  "I mean like _really_ a dick.  We overlook it because we know he's got issues, but _somebody_ was gonna pop him in the jaw sooner or later."  He raised his beer and winked at me.  "Glad it was you."

"Do you know why he gets like that?"

"Yeah, he comes back from Stonebrooke in that mood every damn time."

My mouth may or may not have dropped open.  "You know about Emma?"

"Of course I know about Emma.  I went to school with her."  He glanced toward the back, checking to see if Tom was still on the other side of the door.  "Have you been up there with him?"

I nodded, not sure how much I was supposed to share.  "I've met her.  She thought Tom was a ghost."

Chris laughed a little, but it seemed nervous and uneasy.  "Doesn't surprise me.  I went up there with him once and it was completely whack. Poor guy had to hide in the hall so she couldn't see him because she goes nuts if she even catches a glimpse of him."  He took a swallow of beer and shook his head.  "Poor girl's already left the premises.  But that guy loves her and he'll keep going even though it rips his heart right out of his chest every damn time."

Tom came out of the back then and sidled up behind me, slipping his arms around my middle and resting his chin on my shoulder.  "Hey baby girl."

I leaned back into him, tipping my face up so I could feel his breath on my cheek.  "Hey big guy."

He kissed my ear loudly and I squealed, slapping at him as Chris smiled and discreetly vacated to go into the kitchen.  Tom turned me around and picked me up to sit me on the bar and stepped in between my knees, pushing my legs apart with his hands and then letting them rest on my hips.

"Listen babe - don't let me be mean to you, okay?  I can have a tendency to be rude if I'm allowed to.  You don't have to put up with that."

I let my mouth fall open in mock surprise.  "You?  Rude?  No way, not you."  I grabbed his hair and tugged it, maybe just a little harder than playfulness would normally dictate.  "Not with this angelic face.  Must've been someone else."

He tongued his lower lip where it was split.  "No, I'm pretty sure it was me."  He took my hand and turned it over, bringing it to his mouth to kiss the purple bruises that colored my knuckles.

"From what I understand you've been rude to a lot of people around here.  Are you issuing apologies to everyone?"

He gave me a cocked eyebrow and reached up to grab a handful of my hair, tugging not quite as hard as I was pulling on his.  "I don't recall apologizing to you."

"You better.  I'm owed."

"What you're owed is another spanking - at the time and place of your choosing, handcuffs and blindfolds optional."

"Ooh.  Big fellow has a new kink.  Can I wear my collar?"

"And nothing else."

I thought about it for a second as his tongue snaked over my bruised knuckles, sliding sensually between my fingers.  "Okay, yeah, this is way better than an apology."

He bit my thumb with a chuckle.  "I got off easy with you.  Ewan asked for a blowjob."

"Not surprised.  What did Chris ask for?"

He bit my thumb, hard enough to get me thinking about what he had in mind for later.  "You do _not_ want to know."

 

That night Tom woke me up as he was climbing over me to get out of bed.  I blinked, orienting myself, forgetting for a moment where I was.  I'd been dreaming that dream again, the wolf dream, and for a moment I thought I was outside the pub.

"Tom?  What's wrong?"

He turned and looked at me.  "Nothing baby.  Go back to sleep."

I sat up and rubbed my eyes.  "I'd really rather not."

"The dream again?"

"Yeah."

He sighed, a look of concern coming to his face as he watched me intently.  He finally opened his arms to me and waited for me to come into them.  "Come here babe, let me hold you."

I scooted into his arms and curled against him, finding his heartbeat with my cheek as I burrowed into his chest.  "Why do I keep dreaming it?  It stopped for a long time and then came back.  I thought you were keeping it away."

I felt his back stiffen when I said that and instantly felt bad.  He hugged me tight, pressing his mouth to the top of my head as he rocked me. _"Maybe I'm bringing it,"_ he said quietly, his voice so soft that I could barely hear him.

 

Thursday came and I left the office a little early, heading straight for the pub to get the party set up.  Tom had the place open for business as usual, so it was packed like it always was, with the back tables reserved for my work associates.  For some reason the place was in absolute chaos, louder than usual, more crowded than usual, and everyone seemed to be in rowdier moods than usual.  The music was up so loud I could barely hear over it as I looked around for Tom, finally spotting him at the back with a group of people, having an animated conversation with one of his buddies.

"How can you guys control the place when it's like this?  It's party night in freaking Valhalla in here."

Ewan laughed and I could tell he was a little bit tipsy.  Why was Tom letting him drink on the job?  "No worries, that skinwalker back there knows everything that goes on in this place, he doesn't even have to look."

"Skinwalker?"  I looked where he had pointed and saw only Tom.  "What's that?"

He started singing loudly in accompaniment to a group at a nearby table who had just burst into song.  I looked around, noticing that a bunch of my co-workers were just starting to arrive.  I waved and pointed them to the empty tables in the back.

"He's a freak, _nothing_ in this place gets past him.  Watch this," Ewan said, stepping up behind me to grind against my backside, resuming his loud singing as I broke into indignant protest and tried to knock him away from me.  In less than the space of time it takes to blink, Tom turned around and hurled an empty beer bottle at his head from across the room.  Ewan and I both ducked and the bottle smashed against the wall behind us, splattering us with chunks of wet glass.

"The next one's gonna bugger your arse in the alley if you do that again," he yelled, pointing at Ewan as he ducked again to hide under the bar. And then he went right back to talking with his friend, as if nothing had happened.  Ewan and Chris both hooted with boisterous laughter, someone turned up the volume on the jukebox, and in the midst of all the mayhem I looked over and saw Mr Laing, standing in the middle of the crowd, looking around as if he'd just found himself condemned to the seventh level of hell.

"Oh shit, my boss is here."

Ewan came out from under the bar and looked over.  "What, the guy in the suit?  You work for that guy?"

"Yeah...please behave, okay?  Is ten minutes of not molesting me or any of the patrons too much to hope for?"

"Yeah, it probably is to be honest."

I shook my head and shot him a nasty look.  "Clean this up," I ordered, stepping over the broken glass.  "What the hell is wrong with you guys?" I turned to glare at him but he'd disappeared.  Chris was whistling and avoiding eye contact with me, fiddling with the taps. "You do it then," I snapped at him as I headed for the party tables, noticing Laing's intent stare, trying not to let on that I knew he was watching me.  The prevailing mood of the entire establishment seemed to be a bit over the top, with the exception of me, possibly the only currently normal person in the room.

Laing greeted me with a smile as I approached the table where Kady and a handful of our co-workers were settling in.  I avoided getting too close to him, but when Chris brought over a tray of drinks and pushed past me to set them on the table, Laing stepped out of his way and brushed up against me in the process.  I knew it was intentional...I also knew Tom was looking, and that he'd just noticed who was right that very moment taking a seat and making himself comfortable in his pub.  I swear could feel the air temperature rise, and in that moment I realized...I'd forgotten to tell him.

 

"Tom - "

"What is he doing here?!"

He had very calmly come to the party table and greeted everyone, smiling and hugging and patting backs and shoulders before taking my elbow and excusing us, steering me to the back room through the crowd. The calm exterior dropped the second the door shut behind us and I went into panic mode, knowing he was furious under all that chill.

"Tom, I'm sorry honey, I totally forgot to tell you he was coming!  We've been so busy and I wasn't feeling well and - "

"Wait, what?  Are you sick?"

"No, I'm fine, I just don't feel good.  I'm sorry I forgot, really, I promise I meant to tell you."

His face changed suddenly and he stepped quickly up to me as I took a step back, startled by his sudden advance.  He immediately started sniffing me, pushing his nose against my neck, pulling my arm up to sniff around my armpit and down to my hip, finally lowering to his knees to press his face into my lower belly as he inhaled deeply.  I started to laugh and tried to push his head away;  it felt like being sniffed by an overzealous Great Dane, but at least he wasn't yelling at me.  "What are you _doing - ?_ Tom, stop it, geez."

His nose started nudging into my crotch and I decided I'd had enough of whatever game this was and bent over, trying to break his grip on my hips, but he held me tight and I ended up falling backwards onto my butt.  He caught me and set me down slowly, his face still holding that expression of concern as he moved over me and pushed me onto my back, still inhaling me all over.  I gave up and let him, only protesting feebly when his hands moved to my skirt to tug it up and he started to pull my panties down.

"Tom...please...I really don't feel like it and I kinda need to be out there - "

"Shhh, I know baby, I'm just checking."

_Checking...?_

"Checking what?"

"Your pheromones."

"What for?"

"Gestation."

"Gest - what?  Why?"

His head was between my legs, his nose pressed up into my crotch, sniffing me at close range.   _Well this isn't weird at all._

I sighed.  "Well, give it a lick while you're down there, Ob-Gyn Kenobi.  As long as you're in the neighborhood."

He chuckled a little and I could see his shoulders shaking between my knees.  I felt immeasurable relief that his mood had shifted so quickly away from the anger that had been flashing in his eyes just seconds ago.  He raised his head and looked at me, grinning.  "I don't think you're pregnant."

"I could have told you that, goofball.  But then you'd have missed your opportunity to shove your face in my puss, wouldn't you?"

He narrowed his eyes and brought a finger slowly up my underside, teasing around the edges of my folds.  "This little puss right here?"

A shiver went through me and I moaned, dropping my head back without thinking about my reactions.  They just happened, automatically, like Tom was pushing my buttons and making me respond in the ways he chose.   _Probably not far from the truth._

"Yep, that would be the one."

He slid his finger in, swiftly, as deep as it would go and I sucked in my breath so hard that I almost choked.  "Shall I take a closer examination, just to make sure?"

"Tom, I'm not pregnant.  I take my pill every day, I promise."  I closed my eyes and tried to blank out the noise coming from the pub, knowing Laing's voice was one of the many I was hearing.

He wiggled his finger around inside me, pushing a little bit harder till his fingertip was touching my cervix.  The sensation was unnerving and I tensed, letting my inner muscles clench up on his finger, trying to make it stop moving.  "Tom...the party...shouldn't we be out there doing our jobs?"

"Ewan and Chris have it under control."  His thumb came down on my clit and rubbed, effectively shutting me up by sending breathtaking little waves of pleasure through me while I writhed around on the floor. Tom watched me struggling against his touch and crouched over me, nuzzling his face into my neck, his warm lips touching my skin just enough to give me shivers.  I felt myself reaching the first low peak of arousal and moaned, arching up to try to get closer to him, but he suddenly let go and moved away;  I opened my eyes with a devastated groan to find him standing over me, looking down at me with a smirk as he dipped his wet finger into his mouth.

 _"Never forget to tell me something that important again,"_ he growled, reaching down to offer me his hand.  I took it and let him pull me up as I tugged my underwear back up, pouting a little, not sure if he was angry or if I should be.  Once I was on my feet he snapped his fingers and held his hand out, palm up.  I looked at it in confusion.

"What?"

"Panties.  Give them to me."

"What?  Why?"

"Because naughty girls get to wait tables with bare asses.  Hand them over."

Part of me wanted to protest, but the sight of Tom standing there with his hand out, his face a mask of absolute authority, waiting for me to give him my underwear was suddenly the most erotically charged visual I'd ever laid eyes on.  His dominant side was honing itself again, sharpening its edges...and the sub in me was ready to drop to its knees in response.  I knew if I didn't give them to him he would wrestle me down and take them anyway, and though the prospect of having my panties ripped off my body while I struggled was unbearably exciting, I obeyed, bending over to step out of them.  I held onto his arm to steady myself and he gripped my elbow gently, a tiny gesture that told me he wasn't mad, this wasn't serious, we were playing a game designed to help him stay focused through what was most likely going to be a tense evening...and on top of that, it would keep me in a mindset of remembering who I belonged to.  With Laing in the room with both of us, we really needed something to keep bringing our heads back to each other. Tom knew what he was doing.  The self assurance he exuded took away any hesitation I felt and I laid my panties in his hand, physically shaking as I watched his long fingers curl around the lacy bit of fabric, stroking it against his palm with his fingertips.

"Good girl.  Now get out there and take care of your party."

"Yes sir.  But - "

His eyebrow went up, making me think twice about not already being out the door doing as I was told.

"What?"

"Can I have something?"

"I'm not giving you my underwear."

"No, I - wait, since when do you wear underwear?"

His look shifted just enough to let me know I better speed this up or there would be consequences.  He tucked my panties into his back pocket and I frowned as I watched.  He noticed.  "Now what?"

"Not your front pocket?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah, it's closer to your cock."

The eyebrow again, but with a more amused quirk to it this time.  "If you're a good girl and do as you're told, I'll move it to the front.  But you have to earn that."

I pouted, feeling more comfortable with this game now that I knew he was playing.  Playing for keeps, but still playing.  And he was willing to let me set some of the definitions.

"Can I have a quick smack?"  I leaned in close to him, looking up at him with my eyes as wide and innocent as I could get them.  I blinked hard a few times to enhance the effect.  There was a slight hitch in his breathing, just barely noticeable, but my ears caught it and I felt immediately like I had the upper hand, for however long it would last.  His eyes drifted down to my lips and I let my tongue slip out just a tiny bit to wet them.

"Hike your skirt up and bend over."

I deliberately disobeyed, staying where I stood, looking him straight in the eye.  Before I even realized that he'd moved, he grabbed me around the waist and bent me forward, facing away from him, and yanked my skirt up.  There was no warning before his hand landed across my ass with a hard stinging slap, right across both cheeks.  The force of it knocked me off balance but he had one arm around my middle and pulled me back up, standing me in front of him again, steadying me by my shoulders as I grabbed my butt and gasped in pain and surprise.  "Now get out there and do as you're told."

I let him give me a little shove toward the door, making sure he didn't see the smile that I couldn't stop from spreading across my face.  I straightened my skirt but he reached out and grabbed the door, stopping me from opening it.  "Leave it," he growled, slapping my hand away from my clothes, sliding his hand across my butt to yank the hem askew again.  He wanted everyone to know he'd been under it...everyone, but most specifically, Laing.

I was more than good with that.

 

The timing of our exit from the office couldn't have been more perfect;  Laing glanced up from his ale at the very moment I stepped out, with Tom close behind me, his hand on my neck with his fingers draped lightly around my throat.  He let his hand slide slowly down my back to my bottom as we separated and I headed for the bar while he strolled over to one of the guest tables, stretching leisurely.  I noticed with a little bit of satisfaction that he had more than a little bit of an erection filling out the front of his jeans.  Laing no doubt noticed it as well, and his eyes came to me across the crowded room, raising his glass in salute.

_Smug asshole._

 

Toward the end of the evening, when about half the clientele for the night had cleared off and gone home, I went back to sit next to Kady and congratulate her on the promotion.  I hadn't really had much of a chance to talk to her over the past several weeks;  she didn't commute to work with me anymore, and whenever our two departments had to collaborate, she always managed to get one of the other a.c.q. girls to come instead of her.  I'd long since accepted the situation for what it was, and didn't try to make her associate with me.  But she was leaving soon, off to London to train for my position.  I raised one of the glasses Tom brought us and waited till she begrudgingly acknowledged.  Laing, at the far end of the table, raised his as well.

"Good job on the London position," I smiled, tapping my glass to hers.  She smiled back, a little less sincere than mine, and glanced over at Tom.

"Good job on the rest of your life," she said back, her voice slightly bitter as she clinked our glasses and took a long swallow.  "You should marry him, you'd have great looking kids."  I didn't say anything, and she finally looked a bit sheepish and put her glass down on the table.  "Come on, we both know I only got this job because you turned it down.   _And_ we both know you turned it down because you love him too much to leave him.  It's a very jagged blade, forgive me for wincing as it goes into my heart."

I sighed, glancing down the table at Laing, who was watching us closely.  "Well at least it didn't go into your back."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause as she thought about what I said;  she finally smiled, a real smile this time, and nodded.  "Yeah.  Thanks for that."

I saw Laing tip his head, nodding a bit, almost like he was happy to see us making up.  But I didn't get to wonder why he was so interested for long before I heard Chris whistle for Tom and the two of them headed for the back.

"Excuse me," I said quickly, getting up to follow them.  I caught up just as Chris was telling Tom,  "You're gonna want to come see this."

We followed him through the back to the door that opened into the alley.  Two kids were sitting on the curb in the dark, a boy and a girl, a ratty backpack between them; the state of their clothes revealing the obvious fact that they'd been wearing them for a very long time.  In the light of the streetlamp I could see that they looked thin and hungry.  Tom took one quick look and immediately turned to Chris, pointing to the front.  "Get to the kitchen and tell Ewan to put together two plates, load them up."  Chris nodded and disappeared.

I looked at the kids and knew what Tom was going to do.  "You can't bring them in here," I told him, "They're both underage, you could get shut down."

"They can come in the back, it's zoned separate from the front.  This part is classified as a residence."

I stepped out of the way and Tom went outside.  "Hey guys," he said in a friendly voice, dropping every bit of authority out of his tone to put them at ease as he sat down on the curb next to the boy.  He looked up at the sky.  "Getting ready to rain.  You have some place to go so you don't get wet?"

The boy shook his head, not looking at Tom, but the girl on the other side of him leaned forward to peer at him.  She didn't say anything and Tom smiled at her.  "We've got some food in there, you guys hungry?" They both nodded.  "My buddy's gonna bring it out, you can eat out here if you want or you can come inside.  This is a pub - I can't let anybody under twenty-one in the front, but this back room here - " he nodded back toward the open door - "that's not really part of the pub so you can go in there if you want."  Neither of them responded, so he continued in a curiously unconcerned tone, like he was just chatting with someone he knew, telling them to make themselves at home on his sofa while he went to bed.  "I'll leave the door open.  There's a bathroom if you or your sis need it."  Then he stood up and came back inside, taking me by the hand as he passed and pulling me along with him.

Chris came in with two big plates of food as we were leaving and asked what he wanted him to do.  "Just put them down near them and leave," Tom told him.  "And leave that door open so they can come in if they want."

"Yes boss."

"Did you add the sauce?"

"Yep."

"Good man."

He led me back to the front and tapped me on the forehead once we got to the bar, rubbing the frown crease between my eyes with his fingertip.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just wondering what _the sauce_ means.  Those were hamburgers."

"Yeah."

"Okay, so it's obviously code.  Enlighten me."

He shrugged and it was clear he had no intention of cluing me in.  "Fine, I'll ask Chris."

"You'll ask Chris what?"  I turned around as Chris was coming back through the office door.  "They came in, it started raining."

"Good."

Tom wandered off to refill some customer's glasses and I put my foot out so that Chris couldn't come behind the bar without acknowledging me.  "What's the sauce?" I asked, getting impatient with their covert little games.  He glanced across the room at Tom, then leaned in and lowered his voice.

"When vagrants set up in the alley, he always feeds them...and there's always a little something from the till stashed on the plate.  That's the sauce."

"He gives them money?"

He nodded, looking around, visually checking all the tables as he started drying glasses.  "He's been there, remember?  Nobody leaves here without a better chance of getting where they're going."

 

A little while later I was saying goodbye at the door to the last of my co-workers when I felt a hand on my elbow.  Laing had stayed till the end, which surprised me - this wasn't his kind of place, and these weren't his kind of people.  I had expected him to make an appearance, maybe shoot a few meaningful glances at me to mess with Tom's temper a bit, then slip out to meet his secretary back at the office...but here he was, one of the last to leave, and he appeared to have enjoyed himself at least a little.  But his hand on my elbow was a potentially huge mistake, as Tom had tolerated his presence for long enough and a transgression at this point could - and probably _would_ \- result in a brawl in the alley.  As fun as that sounded from a spectator point of view, I knew I had to at least try to keep the two of them successfully separated, if only for a few more minutes.  In the interest of that goal, I pulled my arm away from his grasp and turned, stepping back so that there was plenty of space between us.

His look was gracious as he smiled at me.

"Thank you for inviting me," he said with a slight bow of his head.  "This was...enjoyable, to be honest.  You're an amusing bunch of people and I'm astounded at how you manage to hide it at the office.  Or is this sort of thing going on behind my back and you all have the best poker faces in history?"

"That would be it," I said, trying not to laugh.  If he only knew how often we all scrambled to look respectable the second someone spotted him coming down the hall.  I looked past him and saw Chris watching us from the bar.

"Well, I have to tell you one other thing, and that is that I think you've done well for yourself."

I raised an eyebrow, not sure what he was saying, the sneaking suspicion that he was being facetious making me get my back up just a bit until he continued.  "I noticed what was going on in the back.  Hard not to notice when the kitchen staff is suddenly running big plates of food out the back door...with wads of cash tucked under the hamburger bun."

"You saw that?"

"I'm an observer, darling.  How do you think I get the upper hand in the boardroom before anyone's even sat down?  I figure your boyfriend is either running drugs or feeding the homeless.  And given his track record, I think I'm safe in assuming it's the latter."  I started to respond, but he quickly leaned in close, and for a panicked moment I thought he was going to kiss me.  But he stopped just shy of touching me and whispered, "You could do far worse."

Then with an enigmatic grin, he waved to Chris, nodding his thanks for the service, then raised his voice and shouted "Goodnight Ewan!" as he slipped into his overcoat and winked at me.  We heard a slightly panicked _Oh shit!_ from the kitchen, followed by a nervous sounding,

"Goodnight, Mister Laing."

I stared at my boss as he wrapped his scarf around his neck and turned to leave.  "You and Ewan know each other?" I asked, more than a little bit surprised.  "Okay, this is a story I've got to hear."

He stepped out into the chilly night and raised a hand to wave as he walked away.  "One day, if you're a good girl," he said, the slightest bit of a chuckle in his voice.

 

_To be continued..._

 


	29. Chapter 29

 

 

 

When Laing was gone, I turned around and saw Chris staring at me.  I shrugged and gave him a _What??_ face, watching as his eyes shifted from me over to the table tucked into the window alcove to my right.  I looked over and saw Tom sitting there, by himself, with a bottle of beer and a glass of whiskey.  He was staring at me too, nursing that shot glass, his eyes definitely not smiling even though his mouth seemed to be.

"Is he gone?" Ewan yelled from the kitchen.  Nobody answered, so he stuck his head out and looked around.  "Good.  Smug bastard.  Who invited him anyway?"

Tom raised his glass, pointing at me.  "That would be Miss Black," he said in a tone that settled somewhere between annoyance and irritated amusement.  "Bitch pudding just can't seem to stay away from that guy."  He was looking me straight in the eye as he downed the shot and slammed the glass top-down on the table in front of him.  I sighed and pulled out the chair he had his feet resting on, but he didn't move them; I tipped it up and dumped them off it so I could sit.

"He walked in while we were talking about the party, how could we not invite him?"

Tom took a swallow of beer and shook his head.  "We?  I heard it was you.   _Specifically.  You."_

I heard the kitchen door swing shut and looked up to see Chris and Ewan had both vacated.  There were still a few customers scattered here and there, but nobody looked like they would be needing anything soon.  I brought my eyes back to Tom and found him still staring hard at me with that unnerving look in his eyes.

"I said I was sorry," I started, quietly, but he cut me off with a shake of his head.

"You said you were sorry for forgetting to tell me.  Not for bringing him into my place."

"It's a public place, he can come in here if he wants to - "

The table-rattling slam of his bottle on the polished wood made me jump in my seat.  "He came here for _you,_ Anja - don't even try to say he came for Kady or to hang with the rest of them.  You know they're all beneath him in his estimable opinion."

"He's my boss, Tom.  I work for him, I work _with_ him, and I keep getting crossways with him over you.  I thought bringing him here, onto your territory where you would be the undisputed alpha, would be a good thing.  Let you two sniff each other a little and then he would back off because that's what you guys do, right?  You respect each other's territory?  Wouldn't immersing him in a place where _you_ are the boss have some kind of an effect on him?"

He shook his head, a derisive little laugh breaking from his lips - there was no amusement in it, humorless and dark.  "Babe, you do _not_ want to pit me and him against each other.  You might think we'll just sniff each other's asses and growl a little and then one of us will crawl off to the corner to lay belly up.   _It won't happen that way_.  What you'll get will be a fucking bloodbath."  He stared at me, his eyes a little unfocused, that sneer still on his face.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Not nearly enough," he answered with a smirk as he got up and headed for the bar, grabbing the bottle of whiskey that was sitting there.  He uncapped the top and drank straight from the bottle.

"What do you want me to do, Tom?" I asked when he returned and sat again, leaning back in his chair and propping his leg up on the table. "Quit the firm?"

He leaned in close, putting his face very near to mine, mirroring the way Laing had spoken to me at the door.   _"Yes."_

"Why?  Because your male ego takes a hit every time he flirts with me?"

"Anja, you're one of the smartest women I've ever known, but when it comes to him you seem to go all stupid."  He put the bottle on the table between us, with a little less slamming this time.  "Have you never noticed how he switches from respecting our relationship one minute to coming onto you again the next?  Hmm?  Why would he do that if he were sincere?  If he truly accepted that he doesn't have a chance with you, why would he keep trying to lull you into thinking you're safe and then start all over again?"

"I...I don't know."  I suddenly felt dizzy and hot;  the unsettled feeling I'd had in my head for the last few days was catching up to me and I sat back, swiping at my forehead with the back of my hand.  "I don't know why he does that.  It's just how he is."

Tom was watching me closely, his expression shifting from anger to confusion.  "What's wrong?"

"I don't feel good.  I've been feeling off for a few days, remember?"

"What is it?"  He sat up, reaching over to press his palm to my forehead, frowning.

"I don't know.  I've had a sore throat and my head kinda hurts."

"For how long now?"

"Since Monday, I think."  I watched his frown turn to a scowl and almost started crying;  I hadn't intended to make him mad, but now that I thought about it, my little plan to give him the upper hand with Laing really didn't seen like such a smart idea after all.  I put my hands over my face to hide the fact that my chin was starting to quiver...I had the disheartening feeling that if I began crying there would be no stopping it. Tom immediately got up and came to sit next to me, sliding his arm around my shoulders and squeezing me tight against his side.

"Hey, hey...it's okay baby, I know you didn't mean any harm.  Listen, Laing and I are never going to get along, there's a female between us and that makes us blood enemies by default.  Trying to get us to play nice just isn't going to work, no matter how good your intentions."  He pressed a kiss to the side of my head and I felt him inhaling my hair, probably smelling the scents of a hundred different people on me after the crowded night we'd just had.  His voice dropped several levels and took on a comforting tone.  "Don't worry about it.  I'm not angry."

I turned my face up to him and he kissed between my eyes.  His breath smelled like the whiskey he'd been drinking and I suddenly really _really_ wanted him to take me home and put me in his bed.  But my head was throbbing and my throat felt like it was swelling up from the inside, so I decided against seducing him and instead just tucked my head up under his chin.  "I'm sorry.  I thought it would make him back off."

"Hmm."  His voice rumbled through me, with his neck against the top of my head.  It was soothing and I wanted him to do it again.  "What did he say to you as he was leaving?"

"That I could do much worse than you."

"Hmm."  There it was again...I snuggled in closer and his arms wrapped tightly around me.

"Think you could take me home?  I'm really...tired...I think."

"Sure babe.  But I can't drive like this."  He reached out to flick the neck of the whiskey bottle with his finger.  "Let me get Chris to run us home."

He stood up and held his hands out to me, helping me up out of my chair...I was suddenly a lot weaker than I'd been when I sat down, my knees a little shaky.  My head felt really hot and he slipped an arm around me to walk me out, my weight mostly on him instead of on my own unsteady legs.  He whistled for Chris, tossing his keys to him as we headed for the door, shouting "Lock up for me if I don't come back, Ewan," as we stepped out of the pub. It was raining, and as he pulled his coat up over my head to keep me dry, I heard him say quietly, _"I've got you baby girl."_

 

Chris dropped us at my house and Tom carried me inside.  I protested a little, but ended up just holding onto his neck as he hefted me up and kicked the car door shut, thanking Chris as he ran ahead of us to unlock the the front door.  It occurred to me briefly that Tom had the most loyal friends I'd ever seen outside of a buddy movie.  Apparently life was making a few things up to him as an apology for the past he'd been dealt.

He put me into my bed and took my shoes off, then started to undress me.  I protested again, but apparently there was nothing convincing in my request for him to just let me sleep in my clothes;  he shushed me and continued, sitting me up to slip my blouse off my shoulders, then tugging my skirt down my legs before popping open my bra with the deft finesse of a porn star.  I tried to laugh but my throat was killing me and it came out as more of a snort than a giggle as he moved down to my panties and removed them just as quickly.

"What's so funny, girl?"

I fell back onto the pillows with my eyes closed, loving the feel of his warm hands sliding down my legs, taking my panties with them.  "You. You're so good at this."

"Taking care of you?"

"Stripping me naked."

"Ah.  Well, to be fair, I've had a lot of practice."  He pulled the blankets up over me, tucking them under my chin, his hands touching me lovingly, gently, so lightly that I barely even felt it.

"Think you might make love to me tonight?" I whispered in a hoarse voice that was sounding rougher every time I spoke.

"Nope.  Not with you feeling bad like this."

"Why not?  I can take some aspirin...it'll kick in in a half hour..."

"You need to rest."

"But - "

"No buts."  He laid his hand over my face till I closed my eyes.  "Go to sleep.  I'm going to go back to the pub for a bit, can I trust you to stay in bed until I get back?"

"You can't drive."

"I can walk."  He hesitated, sitting next to my leg on the edge of the bed, stroking my temple with his fingertips.  "Will you be okay?"

I nodded, reaching up to take his hand, pulling it down against my neck to kiss his wrist.  "I'm sorry about Laing.  I won't do that again."

"Shhhh...don't worry about it.  Just feel better."  Leaning over to kiss me, I felt his hair fall against my face, tickling my nose.  "I want you asleep when I get back."

 

The next time I woke up I was confused and in so much general overall body pain that I didn't dare move...I recognized my discomfort immediately as fever and wondered when it had gotten high enough to make me feel this bad.  Tom was dressing me and I heard myself whimpering in distress every time he touched me.

"It's okay baby girl," he was saying to me, holding me gently as he threaded my arms through the sleeves of a loose shirt and pulled it down over my head.  I gasped in pain when his hands gripped my knees to tug on a pair of sweats.   _"I'm sorry babe, I'm sorry...hang on, gotta get you dressed."_

"Where are we going?" I asked, surprised at how weak and tremulous my voice sounded.  I wasn't even sure it _was_ my voice;  my head was so closed up that it sounded like it was coming from somewhere else.

"I'm taking you to the ER," he answered, his own voice sounding very much like a worried adult explaining something to an injured child.  "You started having seizures a little bit ago.  Your fever is too high and I can't get it down."  As he sat me up to put socks on my feet, I noticed my hair was wet.  Had he put me in the tub and I didn't even know it?

"Am I sick?"

"Yes baby...you're very sick."

 

I didn't remember the trip to the hospital, or being taken inside, or being admitted...I heard voices talking about me...I recognized Tom's, describing what had happened to me, telling someone my symptoms from the previous night, answering questions about my health, was there any chance I might be pregnant, was I taking any medications, was I allergic to anything...there was a stinging pain in the back of my hand and then I felt cold and sleepy, and then nothing. 

 

When I woke up, it was a drowsy, confusing half-awareness.  I couldn't remember where I was, although I knew it wasn't my own bed...it was stiff and hard and uncomfortable, and the room, though the lights were dimmed, was far too bright.  I knew it had to be a hospital.  Something had to have happened to me.  It was frustrating, but I honestly couldn't remember.  But I did remember him, the very very tall, very very handsome guy sitting next to my bed with his very very long legs propped up on the mattress, sleeping with his face resting on his hand, with his very very long hair falling over one eye.  I remembered _him._

And I remembered that I loved him, very very much.

 

The next time I woke up, it didn't take as long for my eyes to focus and my head felt so much better - it was like flipping a switch from  _earth shattering agony_ to  _I can deal with this if someone gets me a Tylenol._ I stared at the ceiling until the lights came into clarity, then turned my head toward the sound of snoring, smiling because I recognized Tom's noisy breathing instantly.  On the sofa by the window I saw two very long pairs of legs, one set stretched out and resting on the floor, the other draped over them.  _Who was sitting on Tom's lap...?_

It took a while for me to realize the second set of legs belonged to Cara.  She was sitting next to him, sideways on the couch, her legs over his lap and her head on his shoulder.  He had his arm around her, his own head resting on the back of the cushion, mouth open and snoring.  I stared at them for a long time, not sure I was really seeing it...how was Cara here?  Maybe it was just a fever dream?

A nurse came in then, saw that I was awake, and fiddled with the IV that I noticed for the first time was attached to my wrist.  There was another stuck in the back of my hand and they both were very sore when she touched them...she said something quietly to me as she made an adjustment to the drip and within seconds my vision blurred, quickly going black again.

 

It took me a while to figure it out, but eventually it became obvious that they were trying to keep me asleep, allowing me to come halfway to consciousness every now and then to ask me questions, shine lights in my eyes, and then put me right back to sleep.   _Why though?_ I knew I was in the hospital but I couldn't remember why I was there, and it frustrated me to tears.  As I was drifting off again, I felt a warm hand on my face and opened my eyes to see Tom, frowning slightly, his deep voice echoing in my addled head... _don't cry baby girl...don't cry..._

 

Later, but how much later I had no idea, I drifted back into a semi-wakefulness that I wasn't even sure was real, it felt so dreamlike.  I could hear voices, but I was too drowsy to either open my eyes or let anyone know that I was hearing anything.  First to sink in was Laing's unmistakable heavily London-toned voice, followed by Tom's slightly less polished one... _wait...LAING??_   _Tom and Laing were together?  Talking?_ I had to be dreaming, there was no way Tom would speak to him, much less allow him this close to me.  My head was hazy and very disoriented, but their voices cut through the confusing fog and settled there until I was sure I was really hearing them.  The tension in their words was palpable and I heard my heart rate speed up on the beeping monitor next to the bed...but neither of them seemed to notice, and if they did, it didn't stop their conversation.

Laing sounded sincere, his voice low, with none of the boardroom suaveness that I was used to hearing.  He was already speaking when I became aware of their presence.

"...I know you and I haven't always thought very highly of one another, but putting all that aside - I have a proposition to make you, and I want you to hear me out on this.  I know it's not something you'll want to be thinking about right now, but Anja could possibly need some very specialized care in the immediate future."

_Specialized care...?  What the hell happened to me...?_

"I'm not sure that I want to hear whatever you're about to say."

"Just hear me out, please..."  There was a pause and I tried to focus, scared that I was drifting out again and would miss what he said next.  But to my relief, a moment later he continued.  "Thomas, _give her to me._  I will take care of her for the rest of her life.  She'll have round the clock care, live in nurses and caregivers, the absolute best care available.  She'll never want for anything and she'll be treated like she deserves."

Tom's voice was a deep, menacing growl when he responded.  "Did you just say what I think you said?"

"I can take care of her, Tom.  I have experience in this area.  My younger brother is...mentally challenged.  I know how to look after a person with special needs."

_Special needs?  Me?_

"Go fuck yourself, Laing.  She's fine."

A heavy sigh, and I began to have the creepy sensation of being watched;  I knew they must both be looking at me.  Despite what Tom had just said to him, Laing kept his voice calm and reasonable.  "You don't know that and you won't know for a few days.  The doctors have said she could be in bad shape.   Just...promise me that you'll give it some thought.  You need to do what's best for her, and I don't think that means putting her in a home, no matter how adept their expertise."

Even in my addled state of mine, I knew that had to be a jab at Tom putting his sister into a care facility.  I couldn't remember why he and I disliked Laing so much, but I knew what he'd just said was cold and cruel and I wanted him to leave.  

"Why is she crying?"

I felt someone's hand on my face then, fingers brushing over my cheek gently.  I knew they were Tom's, I recognized them the second they touched me.  I immediately felt comforted and knew he would always take care of me...he'd never give me to Laing.  He'd never give me to anyone.

"She probably knows you're here.  And I would really like you to leave before you upset her more.   _Now."_

There was another heavy sigh, and Laing's voice was further away when he spoke again.  "Just think about it, please.  You don't know what kind of damage she's got or how bad off she might be.  How will you care for her if it's worse than you imagine?"

"I'll wait to find out, thanks.  And it doesn't matter anyway."

"What if she doesn't know you?"

There was a pause as his fingers rubbed gently up and down my cheek, caressing across my forehead, ghosting lightly over my eyelids.  "She will."

 

I don't know how long I slept the next time the drowsiness overtook my ability to stay in that semi-wakeful state...it was frustrating, not being able to completely awaken, but from the bits and pieces of conversation I managed to pick up going on around me, the sleep was intentional. They were keeping me under, letting my brain heal.  I still didn't know why - all I could remember was having a sore throat - but I always sensed that Tom was nearby and I knew he wouldn't let anything happen to me.  I heard his voice all the time, sometimes talking to me, sometimes talking to someone else, sometimes singing to me quietly as he stroked my face.  One song he sang to me over and over, to the point where I sometimes thought I was dreaming it...his voice often whispering, many times singing out loud, but always there.

 _And I'd give up forever to touch you_  
_'Cause I know that you feel me somehow_  
_You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be_  
_And I don't wanna go home right now_

 _And all I can taste is this moment_  
_And all I can breathe is your life_  
_When sooner or later it's over_  
_I just don't wanna miss you tonight_

 _And I don't want the world to see me_  
_'Cause I don't think that they'd understand_  
_When everything's made to be broken_  
_I just want you to know who I am_

 _And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming_  
_Or the moment of truth in your lies_  
_When everything feels like the movies_  
_Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive_

 _And I don't want the world to see me_  
_'Cause I don't think that they'd understand_  
_When everything's made to be broken_  
_I just want you to know who I am_

 

When they finally let me wake completely up, the bright lights in my room sent shooting pain through my head until I got used to it.  Doctors shone their little flashlights into my eyes, seeming satisfied enough with whatever my pupils did in response.  They poked and prodded me, testing my reactions to stimuli, asking me so many questions I got confused and teary, but Tom was always nearby, and even if I couldn't see him, he would talk to me to keep me calm.  It was difficult keeping myself from crying when things didn't make sense but he assured me it was okay.  I still had no memory of why I was there, but after I'd been awake for a while, the doctor that was in the room most often pulled a chair up next to my bed and asked me what I knew about the night I got sick.  I just shook my head.  There was nothing I could recall.

The only thing I really knew was that Tom had been there from the start, and that he had never left my side.  Even when I was asleep, I knew he was there.  He talked to me in my dreams, keeping me from being afraid, telling me he loved me.  It might take me a few seconds to answer the simple question, _What's your full name?_...but I knew without hesitation who Tom was.

He was my mate.

 

Cara was sitting on my bed, brushing my hair, tugging at the tangles but trying to do it gently.  "You were asleep for five days.  It was the only way they could stop the seizures and try to minimize whatever damage they were doing.  Scared the shit out of us."

The whole thing confused me and my memory of the events leading up to it were still stubbornly refusing to come back, but I nodded and tried to look like I understood.  Tom was sitting across the room reading a magazine and glancing up at us occasionally.

"How did you get here?" I asked, suddenly aware that Tricia didn't seem to be here with her.  Cara gave me a slightly scolding look and finished with my hair.

"How do you think, silly?  I got on a plane and flew out."

"By herself, after I told her not to," Tom interjected in an annoyed voice from behind his magazine.  I noticed the name.   _Cosmopolitan._  He must have been truly bored to steal that one from the lobby.

She stuck her tongue out at him and continued.  "He called me the night he brought you in and told me you'd gotten sick.  I knew when he started crying that it was bad and I should come whether he said okay or not."

_"Cara!"_

"What?  It's true, you were crying.  I could hear it in your voice."

"Maybe, but you could spare me the embarrassment of everyone knowing it."

She rolled her eyes.  "There's nothing embarrassing about anyone knowing you have feelings.  Guys can cry, there are tears in you just like there are in girls.  I can't imagine not letting them come out, that would really hurt after a while."

Tom didn't say anything, just kept reading his magazine while Cara tended to me.  She'd brought me some lip balm and retrieved my earrings from the patient belongings bag that was tucked into the bedside drawer, and as she put them on me, I realized what was missing.  Every time I'd woken up, even just a little bit, my hand had automatically curled into a fist so that my fingers could rub my thumb...I didn't know why, but it had seemed important.

"Where is it?" I asked, holding my hand up.  Tom looked up from his reading and smiled.

"I have it, babe.  You threw a fit when they took it off you that first night."  He stretched his legs out so he could reach into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out my silver band, holding it up so I could see it. I sighed with relief, aware now of what that awful feeling of panic had been all this time, why I'd kept obsessively rubbing my thumb, feeling like a part of me was missing.

Cara looked over at Tom and then excused herself to go down to the cafeteria.  "Dad's been living on hospital food, he's lost weight...what they're dripping into you from that IV bag has got to be better than what he's been eating."  She kissed my cheek and asked if either of us wanted anything.  I wasn't feeling any hunger yet, and Tom shook his head no.

Once she was gone, he came to my bed and pulled up a chair, scooting it close so he could take my hand and slip the band back onto my thumb, kissing it once it was back where it belonged.  "I can't begin to tell you how good it feels to do that," he whispered, his voice breaking. And then like a statue crumbling, his face collapsed into tears that started out quiet and quickly became wracking sobs as he pulled me up against him, burying his head against the side of my neck.  It hurt to move, but I hugged him as best I could, listening to him cry next to my ear...something I'd never heard from him before.  True tears, true emotion, not bottled up, not hinted at in his eyes, but pouring out of him with nothing holding them back.

_"I couldn't lose you...I can't...I thought I had."_

I didn't know what to say, so I just let him hold onto me and rubbed his back until his shoulders stopped shaking and the soft sobs against my ear faded into quiet sniffles.

"So you _are_ human," I whispered into his hair once he had calmed.  I wasn't sure why I said it...but it seemed like something that needed saying.  As I stroked his neck, finding a relieved sort of comfort in feeling his strong heartbeat against my chest, he turned his face up to mine and pressed a kiss against my cheek.

"A wolf's howl isn't always just a song to the moon," he murmured into my ear.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, here's a bit of a surprise for you - 
> 
> \- this chapter is told by Tom, recounting the events leading up to Anja's hospitalization and the days following. I ordinarily never change POV's mid-story (I think I've only ever done it once before in my Tempest series) but a few readers had asked if I would consider doing this, just this once, so we could find out not only how Tom felt about having left her alone that night, but also to fill in the events afterward that Anja couldn't tell us about, the things that happened while she was sleeping. Things no one else knew except Tom. 
> 
> This is his recollection.
> 
> (and for the purpose of story flow, we're going to operate on the premise that viral meningitis isn't contagious...otherwise this would be a very short chapter)

 

 

"Can you guys close up?  Anja wasn't doing so well when I left, I really want to get back to her."  There weren't many stragglers left, just a few late night regulars who liked to stay till we shooed them out the door, singing as they stumbled down the sidewalk to wherever.  I was starting to feel anxious, like I'd made a mistake in leaving her alone.  Her skin had been hot under my hand, not alarmingly so, but enough to take notice of.  Chris came out of the back and I threw him the keys.

"Go home boss, take care of your skag."

My brother, so blunt.  Of the two of us, I was the one with the rough upbringing, but his mouth rivaled anything I could spit out.  He dodged my swing, laughing, and asked if I was okay to drive.  I'd had quite a lot to drink earlier, in an attempt to blot out what I couldn't understand.  Anja had brought that asshole Laing into my place and he had sat there all night, at my table, under my roof, drinking my beer and eyeing my woman.  It burned me clear through to my bones and I didn't know who I was angrier with - him for the smug smile he'd worn all night and the mocking way he'd raised his glass to me when he caught my eye, or Anja for being naive enough to think bringing him here was okay.  My sweet girl...she just didn't get it.  She tried so hard to fix problems for people, not realizing that some problems should just be left alone.

But that was hours ago, and the buzz from the whiskey had long since faded.

"I'm good."

I gathered my coat at the door and reminded Chris to make sure Ewan didn't get behind the wheel - he was usually pretty drunk by the time we locked up and tonight would be no exception.  Poor kid.  His history with Laing was an uncomfortable one and seeing him here had been hard on him as well.  I would have driven him home myself but I felt like I should hurry, the unsettling feeling that maybe Anja needed me starting to creep up on my nerves, making me jumpy and short tempered.  I checked my phone;  she hadn't called, but that didn't mean anything.  Perhaps she was too sick to wake up.  The thought made me feel ill myself and I hurried to the parking lot, hoping I didn't get stopped in the half mile between the pub and her house, knowing that even though I wasn't the least bit drunk there was enough alcohol in my system to land me in jail for the night.

I cursed myself all the way home for leaving her alone.  I knew something wasn't right, and I'd walked off and left her. _Stupid._

 

She was worse than I could have guessed when I walked into the bedroom, wondering if she was sleeping too soundly to hear me calling to her from the moment I entered the house.  She was in the bed just like I'd left her, curled up naked under the blankets, but as I approached I saw that her hair was damp with sweat and her skin was pale.  Her breathing was steady, but didn't sound quite right.

"Anja?"

She didn't respond;  she was a light sleeper, so for her not to stir and turn over to look at me, blinking sleepily, was an immediate signal that all wasn't well.  When I put my hand on her bare skin between her shoulders I almost drew it back in shock.  She was hot, frighteningly unbelievably hot.

"Come on girly, lets get you cooled down," I whispered to her as I removed the blankets and lifted her from the bed.  She was so small and light in my arms and as I looked down at her sweet little face, sad about the frown of discomfort that was wrinkling her brow, I felt her body start to shake.

_No no no_ I begged her silently.   _Don't baby, don't do this._  I knew a seizure when I saw one and the way her spine went rigid told me instantly what was coming.  Her body temperature was too high and her brain was reacting to it like an attack, trying to protect itself.  I stopped and laid her down on the floor, draping my leg across her lower body and caging her in with an arm on the other side of her head.  If she thrashed, she would only hit me, not the furniture or the wall or the floor.  I held her head and talked to her as the shaking intensified, waiting for it to be over, telling her she was going to be okay even though I wasn't so sure myself.

Another one hit her quickly as soon as the first was done and I cradled her head to keep her from slamming it into the floor.  The second was much more violent than the first and she whimpered like it hurt; I nudged my fingers into her mouth to stop her biting her tongue, but she'd already bitten her lip and it was bleeding a bit.  When it finally passed, her face was wet with tears and my heart clutched up as I looked down at her.   _Why did I leave her here to suffer alone?_

"It's alright girl," I whispered to her, trying to sound comforting and reassuring, though to my own ears it was a miserable fail.  She was still and her breathing was remaining steady, so I left her just long enough to fill the tub with cool water and went back to get her, feeling sick to my stomach when she cried out in pain as I picked her up.  As high as her fever was, her skin must hurt like a bitch.  I tried to handle her as gently as I could and put her into the tub, holding her head up and submerging her trembling body into the cool water, hoping it would bring her temperature down.

It didn't.  After several minutes she showed no signs of improvement, her arms just as limp as they'd been when I arrived, her skin just as heated.  "Okay babe, we're going to the hospital," I told her, even though I knew she couldn't hear me.  Or maybe she could...but she didn't respond, and she was still shaking so hard I could barely hold her as I lifted her out of the tub and carried her back to the bed.  No sooner had I laid her down and started to dress her than she finally woke a bit.

"It's okay baby girl," I told her as she whimpered in pain, almost every time I touched her.  I put my hands on her knees to guide her legs into a pair of sweats and she gasped, her face a grimace of agony.   _"I'm sorry babe, I'm sorry...hang on, gotta get you dressed."_

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice disconcertingly weak.  She had told me twice that her throat was sore, but I hadn't paid any real attention to it;  she hadn't said any more than that and she'd seemed fine otherwise, so I had stupidly let it go, forgetting quickly how many times she had told me _I'm not feeling very well._  I felt so fucking bad about not finding out why.

"I'm taking you to the ER," I answered.  "You started having seizures a little bit ago.  Your fever is too high and I can't get it down."  I started putting a pair of socks on her feet and she opened her eyes, watching me, her gaze worryingly unfocused.

"Am I sick?"

"Yes baby...you're very sick."

 

By the time we got to the hospital Anja was drifting in and out of consciousness to the point where she couldn't answer any questions.  They took us both immediately to an examination room when I told them she was having seizures;  I answered everything the admittance clerk asked, told them the symptoms that I knew about, cursing myself for not paying more attention to her when I realized all I knew was she'd had a sore throat and a headache.  How many times had she actually told me she wasn't feeling well?  I had asked her to elaborate, but when she didn't, I hadn't pressed her for more.  So fucking stupid.  How had I allowed this to happen?

_Is she taking any medications?  Is she pregnant or is there any likelihood she could be?  Does she have any allergies?_ The admittance clerk took all her information down and left quickly, leaving me standing against the far wall to watch as a nurse and an intern hooked my sweet girl up to an IV, starting her on a morphine drip and an anticonvulsant.  She was so pale and suddenly, frighteningly still...and I knew, as I stared at her face, watching the frown slowly melt away from her pretty features as the drugs numbed her pain, that this was entirely, undisputedly, all my fault.

 

They sent me into the lobby to wait while they settled her into a room and I pulled out my phone, staring at it, not sure who I intended to call.  Chris and Ewan would be home by now, Chris with his girlfriend Eva, Ewan sleeping off his nightly overindulgence face down on his sofa.  I didn't really want to call either of them yet.  But the need to hear another human voice tell me _its going to be okay_ was suddenly overwhelming, and before I realized what I was doing, I had dialed Cara's number.  It was late and a school night, but as soon as I heard her say hello I knew that she would make me feel better.

"Hey baby," I greeted her, maybe a little too cheerily.  "How are you doing?"

"I'm good dad - what's wrong?"  She knew instantly that something was up.  Typical.I decided the truth was the best way to go, since she would know if I tried to lie anyway.

"Quite a lot, actually.  Listen sweetie...Anja is really sick.  I'm at the hospital right now, they've admitted her."

"What happened?"  She sounded concerned but calm, like she always did.

"She had a sore throat and a headache, she said...then she came down with a high fever and...well, after that she started having seizures...I don't know what's wrong with her, they've got her on anticonvulsants and morphine."

"Oh my god dad, that sounds bad.  Are you okay?  Is anyone there with you?"

"No, I'm fine, it's late...I didn't want to bother anyone, the guys had a late night at the pub - I really shouldn't have called you, it's even later there - I'm sorry."

"You're there by yourself?  Dad, that's stupid.  Call someone to come sit with you."

"No, I'm really okay.  I don't know what's going on yet, I'd really rather be by myself, at least until they figure out what we're dealing with."

There was a long pause, and I could hear her talking to someone.  Tricia's voice, sounding concerned.  Shit...I didn't want everyone getting upset.

"Dad, I'm getting on a plane tonight.  I can be there before morning."

_"No you're not_ \- Cara, don't.  Really, I'm fine."

"You might be fine but Anja sounds bad.  What you described sounds like meningitis, and if that's what it is and she's that bad, then you've got a long stay in the hospital coming."  I didn't say anything, shocked as always at how smart my kid was.  She must have known I was taken aback because her tone became very condescending as she explained herself.  "Veterinarian studies, remember?  There are a lot of illnesses that cross the human/animal boundary."

"Oh."  It was all I could think of to say.

"Dad, it's gonna be okay.  Okay?  Just hang in there and I'll be there soon."

"Cara, I mean it, I don't want you flying alone."  My voice started to crack before I could stop talking...dammit, other people in the lobby were looking at me with pity in their eyes, their faces unrepentantly sympathetic.  I felt a hard lump in my throat and no more words would come out.

"It's gonna be okay, daddy.  I love you."

It was a long time before I could get myself under control enough to tell her I loved her back, and when I finally did, I sounded so laughably pitiful that the woman at the nurse's station stared at me until I hung up, then snatched a tissue from the box on her desk and held it out to me.  I took it...I didn't really know what else to do.

 

Anja was settled into a private room and eventually a nurse came to retrieve me from the lobby.  "She's sleeping and we're going to keep her sedated to try to keep the seizures under control until we know which direction to go.  Are you the husband?"

I nodded without even thinking about it.  Would Anja have said yes if they asked her?  I felt like she would...so I nodded again, reinforcing it with a _Yes, I am._

"The doctor will come in soon to talk with you about treatment."

"Treatment?  What's wrong with her?"

"Her lab work isn't back yet but it looks like meningitis, probably from the strep."

"She has strep?"  Of course - the sore throat.  She'd mentioned it a couple of times.   _Fuck, how long had I let her be sick before she got this bad?_

The nurse gave me a pitying look and indicated a sofa against the wall, near the windows.  Everyone seemed to be feeling pity for me and it was starting to rankle me.  "You can get some sleep while you're waiting.  Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."  I waited for her to leave, then went to Anja's bedside.  She was sleeping, of course...whatever was dripping out of the IV bag into her arm was keeping her unconscious, and despite how bad it felt seeing her in that unnatural sleep, I had to acknowledge it was for the best.  I'd seen how uncomfortable she was when she was half awake, wracked with seizures and the horrible ache of a dangerously high fever.  I touched her arm, the one that didn't have all the needles and tubes in it, and was relieved to find her skin a bit cooler now.

"I'm sorry, bitch pudding," I whispered against her shoulder, pressing a little kiss to her ear.  "I'm so sorry I let this happen to you.  Can you forgive me?"

She stirred a little, just barely.  If I hadn't been touching her I wouldn't have noticed, it was so slight.

"Can you hear me?"

She moved again, an almost unnoticeable shift of her shoulder.  I knew it was likely just reflex, nerve reactions, possibly even discomfort or, god forbid, another small seizure...but it made me feel better thinking that she knew I was there.  I held her hand and laid my head on the bed next to her hip, drifting off to tenuous half sleep, lulled curiously into relaxation by the sound of her heart rate monitor beeping behind me.

 

Cara called me a while later, from an airport somewhere in Utah.  I told her they had Anja in an induced sleep and she immediately jumped on me.

"Talk to her, dad," she scolded in a tone that seemed to switch our roles - she as the parent, me as the child.  It was obvious by how easily she did it that she made a far better parent than I.  "Don't let her lie there thinking she's alone.  Her brain is still functioning and she needs to know you're there."

"She did respond a little when I was talking.  I've been asleep but yeah, I'll keep talking to her."

"Sing, read, whatever.  Just let her hear your voice. It'll keep her synaptic responses going and she won't be so disoriented when she wakes up.  Studies have proven that people in comas recover more quickly and with fewer cognitive deficiencies if they've had constant stimuli while they're comatose."

I didn't say anything - how a kid this smart had come from me was a little bit boggling, and I found myself wondering if Alicia had been some kind of a genius on her way to a Mensa convention when she met me. My head suddenly latched onto something and before I had a chance to think first, I said it.

"Was your mum in a coma before she passed on?"  As soon as I asked it I hated myself for saying it - but I wanted to know, more for myself than for the simple implication that perhaps this was how Cara knew so much about the subject.  She didn't hesitate to answer and there was no sadness in her voice when she did.

"No.  It would have been better if she had been, though."  I closed my eyes, changing my mind quickly about how much I wanted to know concerning Alicia's death.   _Some things are best left unknown,_ something Chris's mum had told me when I was having a rough spell.  Smart woman.  "Just remember what I said, dad.  Talk to her a _lot._  I have to go, my plane is boarding."

"Be careful, sweetheart."

She sent me a picture of herself blowing me a kiss, her finger pointing behind herself at a security guard that was standing nearby.  Good girl.

"I love you dad.  Be there soon."

I felt myself smiling, for the first time since Kady's party.  "Love you too kid."

 

The nurse returned to check on Anja and asked me again if I needed anything.  "Would you like me to contact any other family members?"

"No...there's no one else.  Thank you."

She gave me another pitying look - there seemed to be no end to them and I wondered if I looked like such a sad case for everyone to feel so sorry for me.  When she was gone I wandered into the bathroom to wash my face and glanced in the mirror.  It was just me reflected there...I really had no idea what difference there was between good me and bad me, it all looked the same.  Whatever.  Sympathy confused me, it always had...we all walk different paths, who decides which are good and worthy of admiration and which are bad and deserving of pity?  I'm a lucky guy, I've managed to survive every challenge I've come to.  No one should pity me.  It's those who have never known hard times that should receive our sorrow, because when the day comes that hard times fall on them, they don't know how to live through it.

I stood in the bathroom door staring at the girl in the bed, sleeping the cold dreamless sleep, not of melatonin and glycine, but of pentobarbitol and morphine.  I pitied _her._  She'd lived a life without much incident, and every day with her was a study in watching someone embrace a different stream of existence.  The closest she had ever come to true tragedy was the death of her fiance in a car accident, two years almost to the day before I walked her home from the pub and claimed her as mine.  She'd never known her parents.  Raised by an elderly grandmother whose actual blood relation to Anja was unclear, a stern old blueblooded woman who raised her to be a proper lady with impeccable manners and a strong head for common sense, who had passed away while Anja was in college studying on a business degree.  The only real off kilter factor in her life - other than the untimely death of the man she had originally planned to spend the rest of her life with - was... _me._

 

The doctor came in with a file of papers for me to sign.  Treatment papers, consent forms, permission for the staff to do whatever necessary to save Anja's life if such a thing became necessary.  I signed them all. The last few forms were end of life consent documents, outlining when treatment would stop if she was unsaveable or if doing so would make her quality of life too unacceptable.  I stared at them, my eyes stinging with exhaustion or dread or maybe an overwhelming combination of both.  But the doctor took them from my hands and shook his head.

"Oh sorry, these shouldn't be in there, you can't legally sign them."

"Why not?"

He looked at me and I saw that damned pity lurking in his eyes, same as with everyone else who crossed my path.  He smiled sympathetically and tucked the papers into his coat pocket.  "As Miss Black's common law husband, you're entitled to consent to her care.  But by law you can't give permission for termination of that care or continuance of it once a decision is made against it.  That can only be done by a legal spouse or next of kin blood relative, or the caregivers in the absence of either."

His words were like a slap across the face, stinging and painful.  I nodded my understanding and he took the file, checking to make sure nothing had been forgotten.  "This all looks to be in order," he said as he started for the door, stopping to ask me if I needed anything, same as the nurse who had just left before his arrival.  Everyone seemed to be looking at me the same way, asking me the same damn question.  I didn't need anything they could provide.  I just needed my girl, awake and healthy and giving me shit about being bossy or trying adorably to earn herself a spanking by disobeying me on some trivial matter.  I shook my head and watched him go.

 

I sat next to her bed, absently rubbing the silver band in my front pocket.  A nurse had taken it off her and handed it to me when they were changing her into her hospital gown;  Anja, even though she was half unconscious, had protested and whined about it, mumbling half coherently that she couldn't take it off, she needed to keep it on forever.  I tapped my own band against it, wondering if she could hear the high pitched clinking sound they made when they touched each other.  She had always loved doing that, tapping our rings together, listening to the sound...she said it made her happy, and by the look on her face, I believed her.

The fact that I could give the doctors permission to take care of her but had no say in whether or not she lived or died was eating at me.  The hospital would decide, if it came to that.  She had no blood relatives to make the decision, and whether I called myself her husband or not didn't give me any rights beyond okaying an aspirin.  I felt sick...if the time came that she truly needed me, I wouldn't be able to do anything for her.  Strangers who didn't love her would make those choices.

I wanted to tell her I was sorry, but she'd already heard it so many times.  

 

Cara arrived early the next morning.  She called me from the airport and I sent Ewan to pick her up;  he came to the hospital to leave his motorcycle and get my car, wandering into the room confused about why we were there.  He took one look at Anja in the bed and went speechless, possibly the first time I'd ever seen him unable to mouth off.

"What the hell?!" he finally whispered as I shushed him, forgetting for a moment that noise wouldn't wake her from her drug induced sleep.  "What happened to her?"

"Strep and meningitis."  Her lab results had come back during the night, she was positive for both.  "The fever sent her into seizures, they're keeping her comatose to prevent further damage and control the convulsions."

"Damage?  What the fuck kind of damage?  Her brain?"

"Just go get Cara, please."  I didn't want to talk about the details and took his phone so I could enter Cara's gate location and phone number into the notes app.  "I'm sending you her picture so you'll know her when you see her."

"What's she look like?"

I wasn't sure how to describe her...how does one go about describing someone who's very nearly their own physical twin?  I shrugged and handed his phone back.  "She looks like me."

"Oh, tall and ugly as fuck?"

"Yep."  His phone beeped and he started to laugh as he opened the picture, but once it was open his jaw dropped.

"Holy shit, she's - "

"Don't say it.  Don't ever say it or I'll have to kill you.  Just go get her.   _Now,_ she's waiting."

 

When he came back, I got up and headed for the door, unable to wait to see my daughter.  Just the thought of her being here with me was a comfort and I had sat nervously waiting for them to return;  as she came round the corner, I grabbed her up in a hug before she really even saw me, so relieved to see her face that I felt my breath whoosh out of my lungs like my chest was being crushed.  I'd been feeling lost and alone, and her sudden presence took all that away.  

_"Oh dad,"_ she said quietly, hugging me as tightly as I was holding her.   _"It's gonna be okay."_  After a moment she pulled away enough to look past me, her face anxious.  "What did her labs say?"  She let go of me and took the chart from the end of the bed, thumbing quickly through the papers attached to it.  "Positive for strep?  Then that's where the meningitis came from.  Have they checked her brainwave activity?"

Ewan was standing by the monitor, staring in confusion at the heart rate numbers.  "Why's her heart beating so fast?"

Cara and I both looked at her closely;  nothing had changed, she hadn't moved, her face was still passive and blank.  Cara touched her forehead and the numbers jumped again, the steady beep speeding up.

"She's been doing that all night, every time I touch her or talk to her," I said, moving the blanket to rub Anja's legs.  The beeping sped up again.

Cara smiled, leaning on the bed to get close to Anja's face.  "She knows we're here."  She began gently rubbing her brow, talking very quietly, just inches from her ear.  "You can hear us, can't you mom.  We're here...you're not alone."

_Mom._   _She called Anja mom._  

I felt a lump come up in my throat; it hurt and I swallowed hard to try to chase it back down but there was no moving it.  I sat down on the couch I'd been sleeping on at random intervals throughout the night, rubbing my face hard with my hands in an attempt to get hold of myself, annoyed that I couldn't seem to get this under control.  I never let emotions run roughshod over me, never.  I was still breathing hard against my palms when I felt Cara sit down next to me, her arms going round my neck to give me a reassuring squeeze.  It felt good and I let her pull me toward her.

"You should try to sleep," she said quietly.  I nodded.  I knew if I tried to speak my voice would break and she'd feel sorry for me, like everyone else who'd crossed my path since our arrival.  I didn't want pity from Cara, I didn't want her to feel bad for me.  I had both my women with me...I was probably the most fortunate guy in the whole building.  All that mattered to me was right here, within my reach.

 

For the first two days they kept Anja asleep most of the time, letting her regain consciousness just enough every few hours to check her responses.  Sometimes they left her semi-conscious long enough for me to talk to her and she always responded, which was an excellent sign that her brain was recovering from the swelling of the meningitis.   _She could have damage,_ they told me as they put her back under.   _We won't know the extent until we bring her completely out of the coma.  Don't expect too much._

None of it was what I wanted to hear, and by the time Laing came into the room the next evening, I was frustrated and more than a little bit scared.  Seeing him, with his best concerned face and a bouquet of roses in his hand, very near pushed me over the edge.  But I stayed calm, because I knew Anja could hear me...she would be listening for my voice, and when she found it through her foggy haze of half sleep, she would latch onto it and listen.  The last thing I wanted her to hear was me cursing her boss for bringing her flowers.

He laid the bouquet on the bedside table and put his hand out to me.  The customary show of male solidarity - although our handshakes had a history of leaving bruises on both sides, I accepted it, a quiet rage beginning to boil in my gut with the knowledge that this hand I was grasping had touched Anja, possibly more times than I knew about or even suspected.  Touches both proper and inappropriate.  I wanted to break every bone in it.

He bypassed the inane niceties;  a good call on his part, as I had no interest in the _hellos_ and _how are yous,_ and went straight to his reason for being there.  "How is she doing?"

It rankled me to have to answer him...he had no right to know anything about my wife, she wasn't his concern.  But my response wasn't necessary...I knew by this point he had most likely had his secretary call the front desk and the odds were very good he knew more about Anja's condition than I did.  I shook my head and took a step toward the bed as he reached out to touch her face.

He saw my reaction and, to his credit, withdrew his hand without touching her.

"Alright, Tom," he said with a sigh, his eyes still on Anja's face.  "I know you and I haven't always thought very highly of one another, but putting all that aside - I have a proposition to make you, and I want you to hear me out on this.  I know it's not something you'll want to be thinking about right now, but Anja could possibly need some very specialized care in the immediate future."

There it was.  He already knew everything.  I kept silent for a moment, hoping he could tell me more than the doctor had, but nothing from his mouth with the word _proposition_ in it could be good.

"I'm not sure that I want to hear whatever you're about to say."

"Just hear me out, please..."  He glanced at the monitor, noticing at the same time I did that the beeping had quickened.  He turned back to me, dismissing it.  "Thomas, give her to me.  I will take care of her for the rest of her life.  She'll have round the clock care, live in nurses and caregivers, the absolute best care available.  She'll never want for anything and she'll be treated like she deserves."

My stomach dropped.  The doctor had come in that afternoon, examined Anja, and given me the worst case scenario - my sweet girl could have permanent disabilities, possibly severe, potentially requiring special care.  But that gave _him_ no right to come into her room and tell me to give her to him, as if she were a possession that he and I had been dickering over.  He felt he had the upper hand now, he had the means to put her up in comfort, more so than I could.  But still... _give her to me?_  Who the fuck did he think he was?  

"Did you just say what I think you said?"

"I can take care of her, Tom.  I have experience in this area.  My younger brother is...mentally challenged.  I know how to look after a person with special needs."

I was shaking my head, I could feel myself doing it but I was trying so hard to control myself, to keep from snapping his neck, that I felt removed from everything.  I was somewhere else, watching this fucked up scene play out.  And all I wanted was for him to leave before I killed him.

"Go fuck yourself, Laing.  She's fine."  I moved in between him and my sleeping girl, breaking his view of her face.  I didn't want him looking at her.

"You don't know that and you won't know for a few days.  The doctors have said she could be in bad shape.   Just...promise me that you'll give it some thought.  You need to do what's best for her, and I don't think that means putting her in a home, no matter how adept their expertise."

_Bloody fucking hell, this wolf doesn't growl, he lunges straight for the throat._

While I was looking at Anja's face, watching for reactions, a tear suddenly slipped down her cheek.  It was followed by another and I knew it was time for Laing to leave.

"Why is she crying?"

"She probably knows you're here.  And I would really like you to leave before you upset her more.   _Now."_

He sighed, as if he considered himself the voice of reason in a crowd of idiots.  He headed for the door, stopping to turn and fire off one last shot.  "Just think about it, please.  You don't know what kind of damage she's got or how bad off she might be.  How will you care for her if it's worse than you imagine?"

"I'll wait to find out, thanks.  And it doesn't matter anyway."

"What if she doesn't know you?"

I gently wiped away Anja's tears, stroking her cheek to let her know I had her, that I wouldn't let anything happen.  "She will."

 

When he was gone, I waited till Anja's heart rate slowed to indicate she'd slipped back into complete sleep, then took the roses Laing had brought and went out to the nurse's station.  I handed them to the first nurse who smiled at me.

 

At Cara's urging, I sang to Anja until I was hoarse, then when my throat was too sore to sing I whispered to her, close to her ear, keeping her aware that I was there, that I was with her and I wasn't going to leave her.  I would never leave her.  I told her I loved her.  I told her she'd be with me forever.  I told her she would wake up and we'd go home and I'd give her that spanking I'd promised her, if she felt up to it.  I told her anything and everything that crossed my mind, and I fell asleep in the chair next to her bed telling her stories and reading out loud to her from the books Cara brought from the library across the road.  And too many times to count, I told her I was sorry.

Chris and his girlfriend Eva dropped by to visit and brought me food from the pub.  Eva came back again later without Chris and rubbed lotion into Anja's arms and legs, complaining that hospital staff overlooked too many important things to be trusted with a patient's full care.  I wasn't sure what she was talking about so I just read a book while she tended to her.  Ewan came back several times under the guise of bringing me clean clothes and various other random necessities, despite the fact that I had Cara to go get things for me any time I needed them, and it soon became obvious that she was the reason he was suddenly so helpful and handy.

"Don't you even fucking look at her," I warned him, not even half playing.  "She's barely fifteen, you're twenty three, it's a boatload of statutory charges if you even tap her on the shoulder - besides the fact that I'll straight up murder your ass and hide your body in the blanket warmer."

He didn't believe me and he wasn't concerned.  "There's a blanket warmer?"

"Yeah, on the maternity ward."  He looked at me like he was waiting on the story behind my knowledge of the contents of the next floor up.  I shrugged.  "One of the nurses brings me hot blankets."

He started to laugh, squawking something about the nursing staff wanting to bang me, and I pushed him out the door to be rid of him.  "Just stay away from my daughter, I mean it."

_Stay away from my daughter_...five words I would never in a lifetime imagine myself saying.  But so many things were suddenly so different than what I was used to.  Threatening horny Scottish barmen to keep their distance from my child was perhaps the least unusual peculiarity in the bunch.

 

They began letting Anja wake up a little bit more, allowing her to stay conscious for longer stretches each time.  Things were looking good.  Her reactions were optimal, her eyes responded the way they should, and she answered questions, although she was a little slow at it.  The doctor assured me this was to be expected and that she was doing far better than he had thought she would.

_That's my girl._  

"What's your full name?" he asked her on the fifth morning, after they'd turned off her IV and waited for her to open her eyes.  It took her a while to focus on the doctor's face, but when she did, her frown made it obvious his wasn't the face she wanted to see.  She slowly looked around till her eyes fell on me...and she smiled.

 

They left her unsedated that night and I edged up onto the bed next to her to catch a quick nap.  She sighed - it sounded encouragingly like contentment, much more so than the discomfort her sighs had indicated previously, and I slipped my arms around her very gently, cradling her head next to mine.  She was still hooked up to the heart monitor and I listened, smiling to myself as the little beeps that now seemed a permanent part of my life sped up, quickening as I scooted in and pushed my body closer to hers.  She seemed to relax, softening against me, the tension leaving her muscles while I stroked her hair and hummed to her.  I whispered the words to the song she liked so much, our song, the one about loving all of her unreservedly, and she turned toward me, humming along for just a moment before she drifted off again.

 

We'd been at the hospital for five days when Anja finally woke completely up.  The drugs had taken a long time to flush from her system and she was still drowsy and a bit disoriented, but she knew me, she knew Cara, and she was able to comprehend what had happened to her, though she had no memory of any of it.  The antibiotics made her sick to her stomach and she threw up several times when she tried to eat, but the nurse assured us it was normal and would wear off with time.  Her disorientation made her seem a bit childlike and I found myself talking to her slowly, enunciating clearly so she understood.  She often stared straight through me, struggling to comprehend simple things, frustration winning out over patience and causing tears to fall more often than not.  But she was trying, and her improvement was rapid.

There was no way of knowing how much of this confusion and memory loss would be permanent and how much would come back.  Some things she regained quickly - Ewan and Chris both received blank stares when they entered the room, greeting her in their usual boisterous manner, but within seconds she broke into a smile of recognition for each of them.  The same with Eva, when she stopped by after work.  But other things remained frustratingly beyond her grasp, simple things like tying a shoe and working a cellphone - and knowing that she _knew_ these things made her irritation with herself even worse.  But she could write and operate the TV remote with no difficulty.  There was no pattern to what her brain had retained and what it had dumped.  The doctor assured us that, with time, it was entirely possible everything would come back to her.  It was also just as likely that it wouldn't.  We would know when we knew.

And I knew with no uncertainty that the only _truly_ certain thing was that none of it mattered.  She was alive and awake and she'd told me that morning that she loved me.  She remembered _us._  

Nothing else mattered.

 

 

_To be continued..._  


	31. Chapter 31

 

 

I was released from the hospital after seven days, once I could tell the doctor who I was, who Tom was, when I was born, and could prove that I knew how to go to the bathroom by myself.  It was humiliating, but the truth of it was that my brain wasn't holding information like it should.  I knew that I knew how to do things, but the _actual doing_ of them...that was another matter entirely.  I didn't know how to tie my shoes or open a soda bottle, but I remembered that Tom liked spaghetti and his middle name was Adam. 

"My daughter is going to be staying with us while she recovers," he told the doctor, putting some favor in my corner to get me home quicker.  "She'll be with her while I'm at work, she won't ever be alone."  I'd been fever free for two days and the inflammation around my brain had receded to a satisfyingly safe level, so the doctor agreed - there was no reason I couldn't go home, especially since I would have help and the constant supervision of someone to watch over me.

I was weak and sore and very very tired, but when Tom buckled me into the passenger seat of his car and kissed my nose with a relieved smile, I didn't think I could remember feeling happier than in that short little moment while he looked at me. Apparently my brain had reset to zero and all my experiences were starting over if getting out of the hospital was the greatest thing that had ever happened to me, but I didn't question it.  I knew the rest would come back, and Tom was smiling that sweet, broad, achingly familiar smile of his, so that had to be good for something.

 

I slept a lot in those first few days back home.  Cara stayed by me, curling up on the bed next to me when I was falling asleep, reading to me or singing.  I couldn't remember the words to a lot of songs that I knew I liked, and that was irritating...she got a list of tunes from Tom and put them into her iPod and played them all the time to help me reassociate the words to the music, which seemed to help me think more clearly.  She also handled all the cooking, though she let me help against Tom's explicit instructions to keep me out of the kitchen.

"He won't know," she whispered, as if he were there, rolling her eyes.  "We just won't tell him.  You need to relearn this stuff."

There were pages of instructions taped everywhere around the house with the intention of allowing me as much freedom to do things on my own as possible - on the microwave door, the coffee maker, the inside of the cabinet where my vitamins and new medications were kept.  So many things came to me immediately as soon as I saw them or read their instruction sheet.  Others required me to read the instructions multiple times until it stuck.  Some things continued to not stick, especially if I was tired, which I noticed with aggravation happened a lot - _way_ more than I'd expected, and though I tried my best not to be disheartened by it or to hold myself to too harsh of a set of expectations, the simple fact that my IQ seemed to have slipped by a few points was simultaneously making me angry and breaking my heart.   I'd never really cared much about being the smartest person in the room, but now that there was no chance of that being the case, I felt the loss of my mental clarity keenly.  But I smiled a lot, not wanting to make Cara sad.  She was doing so much for me, sacrificing her time to follow me around, babysitting a grown woman, laughing it off every time I had to ask - again - how to make the water go from the faucet to the shower.  And through it all, with an affection in her voice that made it seem like it had always been so, she called me _mom._

When Tom came home he would take over from Cara so she could have time to do her online studies, helping me bathe, working with me on simple things that I'd forgotten.  It was horribly frustrating - the most basic of tasks, like operating the stereo or making spaghetti, were just beyond my comprehension.  I _knew_ I knew how to do all these things, but they stayed annoyingly out of reach of my memory, and I found myself dissolving into frustrated tears more often than I felt good about.  But he comforted me when I got upset, even when I was irrationally angry with him, patiently allowing me to take my newly shortened temper out on him, reassuring me that it would all come back in time.  He went over things with me, over and over, until I could start to retain them...only for me to forget them again by the next time I went to do them.  He was incredibly patient with me through it all, far more patient than I was with myself.  "You're just tired, baby," he told me, over and over, every time I got upset.  "Your brain was injured, it has to have time to heal.  You'll get better.  I promise."

"And if I don't?"

I had asked that so many times, but he never answered.  He just looked at me with that disapproving sideways glance, the raised eyebrow that I knew was a warning not to be ridiculous.  I wanted to know, but he didn't want to tell me.

 

I'd been home for a week, spending all my time with Cara while Tom was at work, reading out loud and listening to her read to me as a way of sharpening my brain and improving my memory.  My thinking was still a bit sluggish and I had zero problem solving skills, which bothered me - I really wanted to go back to work, but I knew my job called for me to pay very close attention to details and figure things out with no supervision or assistance.  As slowly as those skills were returning, it didn't look much like I'd be going back to the firm any time soon.  My assistant called me several times to check on me but I couldn't make any estimation as to when I'd be back.  But I really wanted to go, and the next time she called I asked if she thought it would be possible for me to do some "light duty" work, stuff that needed done but that wasn't important enough that a mistake here and there would cause any problems.  She laughed and said there was so much of that piling up that they could keep me busy for a month before anyone would even see a dent.

I asked Cara if she thought it was a good idea.

"Absolutely," she said, nodding enthusiastically.  "Get back into the swing as soon as you can, before the skills you've forgotten are pushed any further back."

Her approval encouraged me, but I wasn't convinced Tom was going to be as easily sold on the idea.  I wasn't sure why, but the feeling of unease when I thought about telling him was enough to set my nerves on edge.  I shrugged it off on the assumption that it was just excitement at possibly going back to work, with maybe a little bit of performance anxiety thrown in.  But I'd been having a dream that I recognized...and once I'd made my mind up about returning to Laing's employ, the dream took on more details that I'd never noticed before.

 

Ewan had worked round the clock while I was in the hospital, so Tom gave him a week off and covered all his shifts himself, coming in late at night and sleeping on the sofa after he checked on me.  He cuddled me plenty enough during the day before he left to keep me from feeling neglected, but I _knew_ we never slept apart - he always slept with me, always, but now for some unknown reason I got up every morning to find him stretched out on the couch, his legs hanging off the end, looking like a teenager trying to fit on a toddler bed.  I complained about it to Cara and she just shook her head.

"Men are such babies," she said, rolling her eyes.  "Throw them a curve ball and they dive into the bushes."  She glanced over at Tom, who was rubbing his eyes, stretching and wincing, obviously stiff and achy from his less than optimal sleeping arrangements.  "But I really expected better from him."

_Me too,_ I agreed silently.  The man on the couch unfolding his long legs to get shakily to his feet didn't seem entirely like the man I knew...but I didn't have much to compare him to, so I put it out of my mind and hoped he would return to normal when I did.

_It can't be easy on him.  I'm not the same either._

 

After almost two weeks of sleeping alone or with Cara, I'd had enough.  There was no reason for him to be out there.  I didn't have anything contagious, I wasn't physically injured and needing room to recover.  I sensed that he was just afraid of something...but I couldn't figure out what.

"Am I different?" I finally asked Cara.  We were putting the door back on Tom's bedroom closet and I was holding it while she screwed in the bolts.

"Different from what?"

"From the way I was before.  I feel the same, except for the confusion, sometimes."  I looked at the door and something suddenly seemed wrong, not about it being off, but about us putting it back on.

"I've only ever been around you that one time, I really couldn't say.  But you seem the same to me, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Yeah, I think you might be a little bit more...I dunno, not sure what word I'm looking for.  Innocent?"

I blinked hard, forgetting about the door, trying to figure out what she meant.  I hadn't gotten a joke on the Graham Norton show the night before, something she and Tom had found pretty funny.  Shit, was I not on their intellectual level anymore?

"Why do you ask?"

"Hmm?  Oh, uh - Tom.  I was just wondering why he sleeps on the couch."

"That's really bugging you, isn't it?"  She fastened the final bolt on the upper hinge and motioned for me to let go.  The door swung free, closing with a soft thud.

"Yeah.  I don't think he ever sleeps out there.  In fact I know he doesn't.  So why now?"

She shrugged.  "I think maybe he's worried about...you know...some things."

"Some things like what?"

"Like, I dunno, sex maybe?"  She came down off the stepladder and admired our work, opening and closing the door.  When it thudded shut again, I felt a chill go through me.  "It's weird talking about this because he's my dad and all - but I think you two are kinda kinky and that's gotta be screwing with his head right now."

"Why would it be screwing with his head?"  She made a face at me like _oh please don't make me,_ but I wasn't about to drop the subject without an answer.  "Go on, be honest.  I can take it."

It took a few moments for her to think about it, then she took a deep breath and gave me an apologetic look.  "Because how can you reconcile having a wild sexual relationship with a woman who can't remember how to turn on the coffee pot?"

 

That night Tom came into the bedroom after I'd gone to bed.  He noticed the door on the closet and stared at it for a long moment, unmoving until I turned over and asked if he was okay.

"Hm?"  He looked at me, something like a haunted expression lingering fleetingly in his eyes for just a moment before he shook his head a little and pointed to the bathroom.  "Cara's in the other one, I just wanted to wash my face."  He came close to the bed, letting me reach out and take his hand, tugging at his fingers.  They were so long, so graceful.  I missed having them stroke over my skin.  "I'm sorry girly," he whispered, moving closer.  "I didn't mean to wake you."

He slipped into bed beside me and scooted in close, propped up on his elbow, looking down at me.  I knew something was holding him back, something I couldn't understand, something that made him choose to sleep on the couch instead of in the bed with me.  Something that kept him from touching me in any way other than a chaste hand on my shoulder or a quick kiss to my cheek, or a hug that was meant only to comfort me.  Something that kept him from looking at me the way I knew he used to.  And it was breaking my heart, because I knew that wasn't us.

I reached up and took a handful of his long black hair, twisting it around my hand before letting it slide through my fingers.

"Are you ever going to make love to me again?"

His eyes lowered to my mouth and I could see his thoughts churning in his head.  He had gotten into the bed with me, surely that meant he wanted something...?  But instead of kissing me, he turned onto his back and settled in next to me, pulling the sheet up to his chest.

"Goodnight girly," he said quietly, his eyes already closed.

 

I woke the next morning with my head on his chest and his arm around my shoulders, cuddled in close, close enough to feel his heartbeat against my face.  It was strong and steady and strangely comforting, and I remembered feeling soothed by its rhythm and the fierce thumping inside his ribcage.  I stirred a little and felt his arm tighten around me.

Shifting to get more comfortable, I slipped my leg over his hip and let it rest against his lower belly.  My knee bumped against his cock, innocently at first, then intentionally as I felt it begin to stiffen and respond to my touch;  he groaned in his sleep and half turned toward me, pulling me closer.  I tipped my face up and pressed my lips against the underside of his chin and without warning he rolled over with me, putting me on my back and climbing on top of me, so swiftly that I didn't realize what was happening until he'd nudged my legs apart and put himself between them, his hand going down to move his sweats out of the way.  I felt his heavy cock push up against me, his hands pulling at my nightshirt then, tugging it up and sliding back down quickly to yank my panties down.

Before I knew it, he was inside me.

His breathing quickened and grew heavy, his voice groaning harshly through gritted teeth as he began thrusting against me, rolling his hips roughly into mine, his hands slipping under me to grip my bottom and squeeze hard, pulling up in time with his thrusts so that my body banged beat for beat against his.  And at the core of it all, his cock slid wetly in and out of me, seeking depth and heat and finally release as it fucked into me blindly.

I knew he was still asleep...his eyes hadn't opened, his body was acting on instinct, following its desire to rut into a warm, welcoming, tight little place where it could relieve itself of its pent up frustration and need.  And when he quickly found that relief, his head dropped down next to mine and he exhaled deeply against my neck, whispering  _"fuck"_  as he rolled over off me, now fully awake and realizing what had just happened.

He covered his face with one hand and I knew he was silently chastising himself for losing control.  I turned onto my side and nestled into him, up under his arm, sliding my hand up his other arm to caress the fingers that were pressed against his eyelids.  He let me tug his hand away, but he kept his eyes closed.

"Tom..."

"I'm sorry, Anja.  You caught me asleep.  You know better than to cuddle into me in the morning - "  He paused, chewing his lip, stilling his heavy breathing.  "Well, you used to know, anyway."

His words stung, another cruel reminder that I wasn't the Anja he used to know anymore.  The one he used to love.

"I didn't mind," I said quietly, swallowing my tears so he wouldn't see them fall, pushing my mind instead to wonder how I could get him to finish me.  I was aching between my legs, unsatisfied and needing more of his attention, but he didn't seem to be aware of it.  I knew he wasn't that way, my Tom would never leave me unsatisfied, but he was obviously eaten up with some deep aversion to resuming the intimate side of our relationship, however it used to be.  I nudged my nose into his ribs and sighed.  "Why don't you want to have sex with me anymore?  I know we used to...I do remember we did it a lot...I just don't remember details."

"You don't want to know the details, baby."

"Why?

"You're not ready."

"But why?"

_"Because_...Anja...I - "  He groaned, but this time it wasn't with desire.  "You're innocent.  You're like you were when I first met you, only even sweeter and more naive and... _fuck._  I miss you."  He put his hand on my hip and patted me, rubbing up and down on my bare skin, hooking his fingers into the side of my panties to pull them back up.  "I'm scared of...well, _shit_ \- of scaring you, I guess.  We don't have what you'd call a very vanilla relationship and I'm not sure you're ready for what you'll find when you climb back into bed with me."

"You climbed into bed with me."

"I know, and it was a mistake."

"Why was it a mistake?"

"Because - oh god, do I really have to explain it?"

"Yes you do, because you're hurting my feelings and it isn't fair."

He sighed, a long, deeply frustrated sound that I sensed was more apprehension than regret.  "Baby...I'm sorry, I don't mean to hurt your feelings.  I just...I can't do it.  You're almost like a child sometimes, the way you look at things like they're brand new, and...and I just...I can't."

I cringed, knowing this was what I'd expected, but still wishing he hadn't put it to words.

I can't.

_But he had,_ whether he'd meant to or not...it had to be a promising sign.

He held me for a while, not talking, just nuzzling his face into my hair with me curled around him.  Being close to me didn't seem to be a problem for him and I decided that if this was the best he could do, it would be good enough for now.  It was better than nothing.  I snuggled closer and relaxed, ignoring the ache between my legs, willing it to go away...I was almost drifted back off to sleep when his voice woke me.

"Who put the closet door back on?"

 

I slammed a chair into a table, hoping to catch his attention, but he was concentrating on his work and didn't notice.  I'd been trying to find a way to say what I wanted to say, but it was proving a difficult task - I was nervous and he was distracted, so after several false starts, I strode over to the bar and sat down directly in front of him. 

"I want to go back to work."

Tom looked up at me in surprise that quickly turned to disapproval, but he didn't say anything.  He didn't have to, the tilt of his eyebrow said everything his lack of words didn't.  He had let me come to the pub with him and I was getting the tables ready for opening while he dried glasses.

"I was talking to Samantha on the phone this morning, she said Mr Laing wants me to come back, he'll let me do simple things like filework until I get back into the swing of it."

"It's _Mr_ now, huh?"

"What?"

"You don't normally call him _mister._  You don't respect him that much."

"Oh.  Well, anyway, I want to give it a try."

He stared at his hands on the bar for a long moment, then swung the towel over his shoulder and nodded.  "Whatever you want, girly."

 

My first day back at the office came three weeks after my release from the hospital.  It was a little nervewracking for the first couple of hours, but my assistant followed me around and pointed me in the right direction every time I seemed lost.  Once I'd found my way around the maze of offices and hallways, the familiarity of the layout came back to me almost immediately and I felt at ease again.  It felt good, giving my self confidence a much needed boost.  Staying at home was driving me nuts, even with Cara to keep me company.

I was settled in my office organizing a stack of files when Mr Laing stuck his head in and knocked.

"Hello Miss Black.  Good to have you back."

He smiled, entering and taking a seat on my client sofa, stretching his legs and leaning back, the perfect image of relaxed self assuredness.  The entire stance came back to me as soon as I saw him do it - spread yourself out, make yourself as large and imposing as possible, immediately establish your superiority and authority in whatever room you've just entered.  I'd seen this man do it so many times, I knew...and although it impressed me, I felt something else underneath the initial admiration.  He was obviously a man who knew what he was doing, but...what exactly was it he was doing?

"Samantha, would you excuse us please dear?"

My assistant smiled and nodded, picking up the files to take with her.  "I'll be in my office," she said graciously as she left.

Mr Laing watched over his shoulder until the door closed behind her, then returned his gaze to me.  A slow smile came across his lips, a smile that unnerved me, although I didn't know why.  He was an assertive man, I knew that for sure, but something about that look in his eyes...it seemed slightly menacing, and very very familiar.

He stood and came around my desk, slowly, like a predator stalking prey, nonchalantly entering neutral territory under the falsely projected impression of just wanting to share a drink from the watering hole.  I wasn't sure why he was making me so nervous or why the predator analogy came to mind so quickly, but I stood up on the pretense of going to the filing cabinet and found myself suddenly enclosed in a very strong, very tight embrace.

"Oh darling, I've missed you so much..."

Shocked but for some reason not truly surprised, I tried to back away, but his arms around me held me tight for a moment, only loosening once I braced my hands against his chest.  "What are you doing Mr Laing?"

His face fell, a look of disappointment clouding his features.  "Sweetheart...it's _Robert_...you always call me Robert when we're alone, don't you remember?"

"Alone?"

He looked into my eyes for a long moment, like he was searching for recognition that should be there.  "Anja, we've been sleeping together for a very long time.  We have a relationship, you and I.  We hide it because he's so jealous and possessive..."  He brought a hand up to my face to caress my cheek, still holding me tightly with his other arm around my waist.  "You're scared of him, you're afraid of what he'll do if he finds out about us, so the only place we can be together is here."  His hand went to my breast and squeezed gently, his thumb rubbing across my nipple, teasing me.  "But you love me, darling.  I was afraid you wouldn't remember, but you do, don't you?"

I closed my eyes, trying to find anything in my memory that agreed with his claim.  I didn't find anything, nothing at all.  But it was that way with the coffee pot, too.

"I...I don't..."

_"Shhhh, sweet girl..."_  His face came to to mine and he kissed me, gently at first, then with urgency as his tongue pushed possessively past my lips and he lifted me up, sitting me on the desk.  "I know you've missed this too...it was agony seeing you in the hospital and not being able to touch you because he was there..."

I wedged my bent arms up against his chest in an attempt to hold him off me, but he was far too strong and far too determined to have full contact.  "You came to the hospital?"

His lips were roaming across my throat now, his warm breath sending shivers up my back to my brain where they were quickly sent back down to my stomach, activating a slow burning fire that made me gasp.  I knew it shouldn't be there...not for _him..._ I knew he was reigniting the desire that Tom had left unquenched and the idea of the same flame being fanned by both men suddenly turned my stomach.

"Yes," he murmured, touching his tongue to my collarbone in soft little licks that were growing more urgent as he moved my legs apart and settled himself between them, holding them open.  "You were sleeping. He wouldn't let me near you."

_Thomas, give her to me._

My eyes flew open.  "I remember you talking."

"Mnn hmm."  The rumble of his voice against my throat was both disturbing and exciting and I caught myself having to consciously remember to draw breath as his hands slid slowly up to cup my breasts.  "I had to present the false impression that I was there as your concerned boss instead of your worried lover."

"I don't...I still don't..."  I couldn't quite figure out what I was struggling to say, and his hands squeezing my breasts were distracting my thoughts.  I don't what?   _I don't believe you?_

_I don't trust you?_

_I don't want you?_

I had no idea what was truth and what wasn't, but one thing I knew for certain...it all began with _I don't,_ and that had to mean something.

I tried to push my knees together but he was between them, thrusting up against me now, both of us still fully clothed but one of his hands now sliding down to push my skirt up.  As soon as his fingers touched my panties I knew this wasn't right.  I didn't want him.  He shouldn't be touching me, not like this.  I didn't feel any desire for him and it sent all my alarms into overdrive.

"Why don't I feel anything when I look at you?"

He pulled his head away from my breast and looked at me with what appeared to be genuine hurt in his eyes.  If it was fake, it was convincing.

"Because he was with you, the whole time you were recovering.  He was there to talk to you while you were asleep and when you woke up.  He's obviously convinced you that you love him...but darling, _it will come back._ You just need to trust me."He pushed his hand under my panties and before I could stop him, he was slipping a finger into my folds.  I cried out and struggled to push him away, but he was far stronger than me, and in that moment I realized that he had no intention of stopping with just a finger.   _"Be still darling,"_ he whispered harshly as he stepped back just far enough to unbuckle his pants.   _"You'll remember after this."_

My mind screamed _NO NO NO!_ but my mouth couldn't follow suit because his tongue was suddenly invading again, muffling my protests, silencing me to anyone further than the office door.  He was up against me again and I could feel him, solid and hard and radiating heat as he positioned himself between my legs, his hands grabbing my hips roughly to pull me to the edge of the desk as he pushed me onto my back with his strong chest.  My efforts at struggling against him rendered barely more than a ridiculously ineffective squirm - he had me completely pinned, and it was obvious there would be no getting out of this position until he was finished with me.

But even though my body was no match for him in strength, I still had words.  I turned my head hard to the side to break his silencing kiss and heard my voice, weak and scared but determined, begging him - 

_"Please don't do this."_

 He hesitated, his cock in his hand against my thigh, ready to push into me.  My words spilled out quickly, a sense of urgency and self preservation telling me it was essential that I distract him _now._

"Please...if you love me and I love you, you wouldn't have to force me, would you?  I'd want this, wouldn't I?"

He looked me straight in the eyes, and I saw his pupils begin to contract.  He was listening.

"You don't remember the nature of us," he whispered, his voice strained but controlled.  "We're like this, Anja.  You love me to force you.  It's a game we play."

I shook my head frantically, the words rushing out in panic. _"I don't want to play!"_ My voice sounded small and scared, almost like...a child.   _Shit.  Was Tom right?_

Laing sighed, the wind obviously taken from his sails.  He bent his head to kiss me again, but I didn't return it;  there was a moment when he put his weight completely against me and I closed my eyes tight, sure that the next thing I'd feel would be his cock ripping into me, but he pulled away and I heard his zipper go up.

"You'll need to wash up so he doesn't smell me on you.  I don't want you coming to work with bruises again.  You know how he gets."

 

As soon as I got home I bathed, then showered, knowing somehow that no amount of washing was going to take his scent completely off me.  I scrubbed between my legs, wincing as I rubbed at the place where his finger had invaded, where his cock had nudged against me.  Tom would still smell him, I knew.  I remembered that detail with great clarity.  Tom always knew when someone had touched me.

But I intended to tell him everything anyway, and the scent would be explainable, driving my story home with more force...so after I'd scrubbed enough to take away the dirty feeling of violation and set my own nerves at ease, I left the rest.

Tom was in the kitchen putting together some dinner for us.  He looked at me and smiled when I came in in my bathrobe;  I'd been in the shower when he came home, so he hadn't had a chance to catch a whiff of me yet.  I knew he'd be inhaling me deeply the moment I got close enough though, if he wasn't already.

I went quickly into his arms and let him hold me, waiting to feel his chest expand as he filled his lungs.  I was rewarded with the almost instant sound of his breath catching, and I knew it was recognition of the smell that had soaked into my skin.  Neither of us said anything for a long time, but his arms didn't loosen from around me.

"Tom..." I finally whispered, my voice muffled by the front of his shirt.  There was no pause before he responded.

"Hmm?"

"He says...he says that he and I are together, and that we have been for a long time."  

I stopped, waiting for a reaction, and wasn't surprised when I felt his spine stiffen.  There was no need for me to say who _he_ was...Laing's identity was never something we had to clarify between us when speaking of him.  I suddenly remembered that and felt all the more chilled about what had transpired.  "He says that we hide it from you because you're violent and dangerous and you'll hurt me if you find out about us."  I looked up at him, at the suddenly frightened look in his eyes, at his mouth, slightly open as if trying to speak but lost for words.  "Is there any way it could be true?"

He was shaking his head, just slightly, his eyes holding onto mine.  "No, baby.  It couldn't be.  He's messing with your head, putting things there that you don't know weren't there before."  He gathered me back into his arms and held me, his heart thumping so hard and fast against my cheek that I felt certain it would explode in his chest if it didn't settle soon.

"I didn't think so," I whispered.  "But I didn't know.  There was nothing to tell me if he was lying or not...just the fact that when I look at him, I don't feel anything.  Nothing at all."  His arms tightened around me and I felt safe, warm, comforted...all of the things I didn't feel when Laing had his arms around me.  I pressed my face into the front of his shirt again, inhaling his scent, the way he'd done to me - but finding comfort in the smell that I knew was all him.  "But when I look at you, I feel everything.  Everything that it's possible to feel...it's all there when I look at _you."_

He sighed deeply, something like a small, quiet whimper punctuating the end of his exhalation.  I felt it against the top of my head and it made my heart sting.

"He tried to hurt you, didn't he."

I nodded, my head rubbing against his chest.  "It's time for me to quit the firm, isn't it."  I turned my face up to look at him, but he was looking off into nothing;  he sighed, stroking my hair, pulling it a bit.  

"I'll go tomorrow and turn in your keys and ID.  You don't need to see him."

"I'll have to be there to sign my keycard in."

A frown crossed his face, wrinkling his brow momentarily.  "Alright.  But be warned - I intend to have a word with him."

"A word?"

He looked down at me and I wondered how a face so suddenly completely devoid of expression could be so chilling.   _"A word."_

 

"I can't believe you're leaving, Miss Black.  We're going to miss you."

The woman behind the HR desk smiled at me sadly as she reached for the passkey that I was holding out, sliding a stack of papers toward me to be signed.  I couldn't remember her name so I just smiled back and took the pen she offered me.  "You'll need to take that top form up to Mr Laing for him to sign before you go."

"Okay.  Thanks."  I turned to look at Tom but his face was still as expressionless as it had been the night before.  I was starting to wonder what it meant...if maybe this was the face he'd worn when he decided to kill his stepdad, or plotted to murder Eric's father...

We took the elevator wordlessly up to the twenty first floor, navigating the long twisty hallways till we found his office.  I knocked, and the door drifted open from my touch.

"Come in, Anja."

Tom pushed me into the office from behind and slammed the door shut, meeting eyes with his nemesis, who stood up slowly and came to the front of his desk - and in that moment I remembered it all, the seething hatred these two had for each other, the constant battle over _me._  My stomach went cold, my head suddenly filled with vivid images of flirtatious whispers, inappropriate touches, implied innuendos, all the unwelcome things this man had done for so long, followed by a memory from a dream...Tom, ripping someone's throat out in the dark alley behind the pub, without remorse...and with a sudden absolute certainty I knew that it was a justified act of a man defending what was his.

Without a second's hesitation Tom strode across the room and punched Laing square in the face.  It took me so solidly by surprise that I screamed and slapped my hands over my mouth, standing there in shock, watching helplessly as he stood over him, looking down, his fists clenching and unclenching.  "That was for trying to turn Anja against me with that bullshit about the two of you."

_"Tom - "_   I squeaked out, barely able to find my voice.  He turned his head just slightly, not looking at me, but I knew he was listening.  "Tom, please, lets go."

I could hear his breathing, loud and heavy, and knew this wasn't over yet.

"Go down to reception and check out of the building, Anja."

"Tom - "

_"Do it, baby."_

There was no room in his tone for disobedience or hesitation.  I took one more look at Laing, sitting on the floor leaning forward, his nose bleeding onto his perfectly pressed white shirt, and looked away quickly when his eyes met mine.  He didn't seem defeated, just...annoyed, and very slightly amused.

On my way out the door I heard the unmistakable sound of Tom taking two steps back.  I'd heard that sound the night he nearly kicked Eric to death outside the pub, and I heard it again, over and over, in my dreams.  As I rounded the corner down the hallway to the elevators, I could hear his voice, a deep and threatening growl that sounded more animal than man.

_"And this is for coming to the fucking hospital and demanding that I give her to you like she was a damn brainless burden."_

 

 

_To be continued..._


	32. Chapter 32

 

 

"You beat the shit out of that smug motherfucker?!"

I was shaking, trying to hold a bag of ice on Tom's hand.  His knuckles were badly bruised already, but he hadn't indicated that he was in any pain.  He glanced at Ewan briefly but didn't say anything.  His eye was a bit swollen and I was a little surprised that Laing seemed to have gotten a punch in, although from the lack of serious bruising it didn't seem to have been a very good one.

"I need to hear about this," Ewan continued, giddily excited and moving constantly like a hyperactive child.  He jumped up to sit on the bar next to where I was tending to Tom's hand and got down in my face.  "So tell me!  Did the fucker go down on the first punch?"

"Ewan, stop.  Seriously, come on."

Tom shrugged, wincing a little when I took the ice off.  "You'll hear all about it once the police arrive."

Ewan's mouth dropped open, obviously more in excitement than apprehension about this potentially turning into a showdown with the authorities.  "You think they're coming?"

"I'm sure of it."  Tom pushed the ice away when I tried to put it back on and gave him a serious look.  "When they do, just stay out of the way, and I want you to take Anja home."

It was my turn to let my mouth drop open.  "Wait, you're talking like they're going to arrest you - ?"  

"Of course they're going to arrest me, I just walked into a private office and assaulted an unarmed, well respected, highly influential businessman.  I'm goin' to jail, baby."  He grinned, wiggling his fingers slowly to see if they still worked.

"And this is okay with you?"

"Of course it is.  Do you think I would have done it if I wasn't ready to face charges for it?"

I stared at him, dumbfounded.  Ewan threw his head back and laughed, pumping his fists in the air.  "This is the greatest gift you could have ever given me, man.  I love you so much right now, you just made everything right in the world.  Only one thing would be better than this and that's if the fucker was dead and they never found his body."  He suddenly went straight-faced and stared at Tom.  "Did you??"  A slow grin spread across his face and his eyes lit up again.   _"Oh my god did you?!?"_

Tom didn't answer and Ewan looked at me, the joy barely contained in his face.  "Did he?!  Please tell me he did!"

"If you're asking if he killed him, I have no idea - I was ordered off the premises after the first punch was thrown."

"What was the last thing you saw?  I gotta know, you can't keep this from me!"

"Last thing I saw was Laing sitting on the floor."

"Yes he went _down!_  And?"

I shrugged, trying to picture it in my head again.  "Bloody nose.  He didn't say anything."  I looked at Tom.  "Nothing at all."  That seemed a little weird, now that I thought about it.  "How come you hate him so bad?  How do you even know him?"

He hopped down off the bar and  ducked under it, coming back up with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses.  He filled one halfway and slid it in front of Tom.  "The really good stuff.  You earned it."  He poured two more and put one in front of me.  "So you want my Laing story, huh?"

I nodded, taking a tiny sip of the whiskey.  It burned like fire in the back of my throat and I saw Tom watching me as I winced, swallowing hard and then sucking my breath in.  My eyes went watery and I had to fan my face for a second.

"Your meds, baby," he reminded me, tipping his own glass back and downing the whole thing in one swallow.  He didn't even flinch.

"So I'm fourteen years old and I'm sorta stupid right?" Ewan began, grimacing around his second swallow of whiskey.  "And they're gonna send me to this juvie home where I'll be locked up with other stupid fourteen year olds for the next four years, and then based on my behavior while I'm there they're gonna decide if I need to go to prison after that.  But they think sticking me in this place with a pack of morons even stupider than me is gonna rehabilitate me?  Fuck no."  He took another drink and hissed at the burn, scrunching his face up.  Tom reached over and took my glass, downing it himself.  "So anyway, my mum, who's this fucking Scottish _saint,_ she gets me into this program where they take idiots like me and teach them a skill and get them ready for the real world so they can be properly functioning members of society and all that shit...and there's this guy in charge of the program, he's some bigshot lawyer looking to add some charity work to his list of stuff to brag about at cocktail parties, and he takes one look at my mum and says 'Why certainly darling, I'll be more than happy to take your wayward son under my wing'." He made a face, mimicking sticking his finger down his throat and throwing up.  "This guy was a _dick._ Total shite."

I watched Tom pour himself another shot and wondered how drunk he was going to be at the end of this story.

"So long story short, I had to watch this suit-wearing lizard bang my mum for four months until I graduated out of the damn program and my fucking ten year old brother looks more and more like that sleazeball every day."

I choked on my own spit and stared at him in shock.  "Laing is your brother's dad?!"

He nodded, throwing back another shot, starting to look a bit bleary eyed.  "Yup.  But he doesn't acknowledge him.  Never owned up to it, acts like it never happened."

"Oh my god."

Ewan nodded, staring past me, swirling his glass around.  "Yeah, oh my god," he repeated, bitterly.

 

The police didn't come, which was a good thing because Tom was halfway through the bottle and so drunk that he fell asleep as soon as we got him into the car.  I wasn't allowed to drive yet and Ewan was in no shape to even think about it, so I had to call Cara and have her walk over to drive us home.  We dropped Ewan off at his place first and Cara helped him to his front door - I'm almost certain he didn't really need her assistance, but he leaned on her and made her put her arms around him to hold him up, which was almost too obvious, even to me.  I laughed a little and she got back in the car shaking her head.

"I'm glad dad didn't see that."

I looked over at Tom, sound asleep and snoring with his head against the window.  "Yeah, me too...wouldn't want to add a count of murder to his rapidly growing rap sheet."  In my head I just kept thinking, _third times the charm._ The next time he tried to kill someone I had no doubt he'd succeed.  But Cara didn't need to know about this part of her dad's past, so we took him home and walked him into the house, letting him drop like a stone onto the sofa, where he slept it off for the next four hours.

 

He seemed no worse for the wear when he woke up, a little surly perhaps, but it was hard to tell how much of that was the hangover and how much was just him.  There had still been no contact by the authorities and I didn't know if I should feel relieved or concerned by the fact that nobody seemed in any hurry to act on what had happened.  There weren't any security cameras in the offices, but the ones in the main lobby would prove he'd been there.  They would also prove that I'd been with him, but that I'd left the building long before him...

When I realized that he'd sent me out to avoid implicating me, knowing the cameras would record me leaving before it happened - whatever _it_ was - filled me with a confusing mix of love for his protectiveness and anger at his stubbornness.  He was always ready to take full blame, no matter what.  I just wished I knew what to expect, but he apparently had no intention of telling anyone what happened.

 

I sat on the bed with my notebook and his tattered old book of Norse mythology, copying lines from it over and over to help my brain make visual connections.  Cara had told me I needed to do this to sharpen my comprehensional acuity, but once I'd started I found it oddly relaxing.

_Fenrir, wolf son of the god Loki, bound by a silken ribbon to await his time to rise, finally unleashing Ragnarok when his father freed him._

I remembered thinking Tom was Fenrir somehow.  I stared at the words as I'd written them, checking for mistakes, irritated at how messy my handwriting was now.  It used to be neat and readable...Laing liked for me to copy his notes for meetings because he said my writing made him feel happy...I pushed him out of my head and concentrated, annoyed when I saw I'd spelled Ragnarok wrong.

_\- when his father freed him._

Tom had never told me more about his father even though I had asked.  The more I thought about it, the more the details came back to me...he was full blooded Cree, Tom looked like him...he had loved his kids but had left them for some reason.  Tom wouldn't talk about him.  His father's abandonment had led to all the horrible things that happened to him and Emma, and he couldn't forgive him for it.

He came out of the bathroom, a little unsteady on his feet, and stared at the closet door for a moment before coming to the bed and falling across it.  He let one arm drape over my lap, his hand lazily rubbing my thigh.

"What are you doing?" he asked, tapping my notebook.

"Practicing my writing."

He squeezed my arm for a brief moment, then let his hand slide down to the bed.  "Good girl."  I listened to him breathe for a few seconds, both of us silent, till finally he spoke again, his voice much quieter this time.  "I'm sorry, bitch pudding."

I smiled, feeling a sudden warmth in my stomach when I heard those words - his little insult that actually meant he loved me - but the apology left me confused.

"Sorry for what?"

"It was my fault."  He turned his head, nuzzling his face up against my leg.  I waited, but he didn't seem willing to volunteer an explanation without my dragging it out of him.  I sighed, remembering that this was typical behavior for him, a stubborn reticence for surrendering information...but I also remembered that I could usually get things out of him if I was willing to shrug off whatever rude attitude came with it.

"What was your fault, baby?"

His hand was rubbing slowly up and down on the inside of my knee, like you would pet a cat while staring out a window, without paying any real attention to it but finding comfort in the rhythmic motion of stroking soft fur.  It felt nice and I really didn't want my line of questioning to agitate him into stopping, so I stroked his hair to keep him relaxed and calm.

"I sent you off to him without my scent on you.  I knew better.  I should have marked you first..."  His voice trailed off as he pushed his face harder into my leg, muffling his words.  "I almost got you raped and I'm so so sorry that he hurt you like that."

"He didn't hurt me," I said quickly, combing my fingers through his long black mane.  "He just groped me a little."

He finally turned his face up and looked at me.

"Tell me what happened."

His tone was chilling;  there was no emotion in it, only a cold, authoritative dominance that made me afraid to disobey.

"Well, I told you what he said - "

"Yes, now tell me what he _did."_

"Um...well, he kissed me, and put me up on the desk, and he was touching me."

"Where did he touch you?"  His face was still passive but his eyes had left my face and wandered down to my stomach.  The hand that had been rubbing my leg moved up and rested on my hip, then he slowly moved it across to my lap and ghosted his fingers across where my upper thighs were pressed together.  "Did he touch you here?"

I nodded, watching his face carefully.  There was no reaction, but his fingers drifted closer to my crotch, nudging in between my legs just enough to press against my body.  "How about here?"  His eyes came up to mine and there was finally something showing there, though I wasn't sure what exactly it was.  "Did he touch you here?"

I nodded again.  I knew I had nothing to gain except his anger if I failed to tell him everything he wanted to know, so I anticipated his next series of questions and answered them all in one shot.  "With his fingers and his cock."

There was a visible flinch, a small, almost imperceptible twitch of the muscle in his cheek, a clench of his jaw that gave away the fact that there were strong feelings going on behind that carved stone face.  "Did he put either of them inside you?"

I was finally able answer in the negative, shaking my head, and relief washed the stern clenched jaw from his face.  He sighed, his fingers stroking lightly against me.  "How close did he get?"

"To what?"

"To penetrating you."

I felt a flush come to my cheeks, making my ears feel hot.  He had come _so close_...I remembered his finger slipping into my folds, pressing against my opening, but he hadn't pushed it in.  "Close."

"How close?  Show me."  I frowned, not sure what he was asking me to do, and he withdrew his hand, propping himself up on his elbow.  "Take your pants off and show me what he did to you."

I stared at him for a moment, but finally obeyed;  I got up on my knees and pushed my yoga pants down my legs, sliding them off while he watched.  I left my panties on and sat back against the pillows.

"He was standing between my knees so I couldn't close my legs."

"Did you have your panties on?"

"Yes."

"Did he put his hand inside them?"

My voice was starting to feel a little shaky, so I nodded instead.

"Show me."

He was laying beside my legs, his head even with my hips, his hand laying palm-up on my thigh.  He wiggled his fingers to show me what he wanted.  I took his hand, pulling it up between my legs, and laid his fingers against the crotch of my panties.  He didn't move, didn't do anything of his own volition, just allowed me to do it.  I took two of his fingers and pushed them up under the fabric, taking a deep breath before pressing one between my folds, stopping just shy of letting it go in.

"That's what he did."

Tom's eyes were locked to his hand, his expression gone stony again.

"That's very fucking close, Anja."

I nodded.  "I know.  He took me by surprise, I wasn't expecting it."

"And his cock?  How close did it get?"

"Against my thigh, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"It...he nudged it up against me...but not in."

"Was it where my finger is?"

"No, not even close.  Outside my underwear."

"Are you sure about that?"

I nodded, hoping he could sense my certainty.  "I'm sure.  I remember all of it, there are no blank spots."

"Baby," he said quietly, moving his hand out of my panties and pressing his mouth to my thigh, just above my knee, "You know you're prone to seizures now, right?"

"Yes."

"And you remember what the doctor said, about how some seizures might just be a few seconds when you zone out and stare at nothing, then come back...you remember that, right?"

"Yes."

"Is it possible that happened at any time while you were with him?"

I shook my head, completely certain that hadn't happened.  "No, I remember every second.  There are no blanks."

"And you're absolutely certain of that?  No moments of confusion?"

"Absolutely certain.  None."

He sighed deeply and I could hear the overwhelming relief in the sound.  "Good.  Thank you for showing me.  I'm sorry, I just...I needed to know."

I scooted down on the bed so that I was laying face to face with him, both of us on our sides.  "You were scared he got inside me."

"Yes."

"That's for you, Tom...only for you."

"I know, baby."

I snuggled into his chest, tucking my head up under his chin as his arms came around me.  "What would you have done if he had?"

There was a long silence, so long that I thought he had no intention of answering me.  I had decided not to ask again and just let it go when he finally pressed his lips to the top of my head and whispered, "It's not what I'd have done, it's what I'd have had to do after."

I tried to look up at him but he held my head still with his hand.  "What...?"

"We'd be on the road right now, you and me...headed to god knows where."

"Why?"

"You never dispose of a body on your own territory."

I squirmed out of his arms and sat up, staring at him.  "On this road trip of ours - is Laing by any chance in the trunk?"

He broke into a wide grin and started to laugh.  "You're getting the hang of it, girly."

After a few seconds he slapped the side of my leg with his hand and rolled over onto his back, covering his face with his arm, still laughing.  It felt good to see him finally show a little lightheartedness, but it was an eerie type of humor...and as I snuggled back down beside him and felt his arm go around me, I wasn't entirely convinced that he was joking.

 

He slept on the couch again that night, even though I asked him if he would stay with me.  I was feeling needy and desperate and a little bit hopeful after what had happened earlier that evening - even though he hadn't touched me for pleasure purposes, he had still touched me, and it had been intimate regardless of its intention.  But he just kissed me on the cheek, lingering for a moment to breathe on my skin, then told me goodnight and left, casting a sideways glance at the closet door.  He obviously didn't like that thing, but I couldn't imagine why.

 

In the morning I went into the bathroom to pee and was taken off guard - my period had come, way off schedule, and I stood there staring at my bloody underwear in confusion.  I think I must have gasped loudly, because I immediately heard Tom outside the door.

"Are you okay Anja?"  He pushed the door open and looked at me, figuring out what was going on way quicker than I did.  "Oh, baby, I'm sorry - I forgot, they gave you a cycle suppressant, it must be out of your system now."  He came in and I just looked at him, my brain completely blanking as he leaned over to take my panties from around my ankles, wrapping his hand around my calf to lift my leg and help me step out of them.  I put my hands on his shoulders for balance.  "In the hospital, when they put you to sleep, they gave you a suppressant so they wouldn't have to deal with this while you were in your coma, just in case it ended up taking longer than they expected for you to come out of it."  He got a washcloth from the pantry and wet it in the sink with warm water, then knelt in front of me, gently dabbing at the blood on my inner thighs. "They said it would throw your cycle off schedule, I've mislaid the papers that explain it but they're around here somewhere.  I'll find them for you."  He looked up at me and gave me a sheepish smile.  "I guess you weren't expecting this.  Sorry."

He went back to cleaning me up and I stared at him, remembering details that suddenly felt like they'd never been forgotten.  "Don't you usually sniff me and tell me when this is coming?  Your famous nose failed me this time."

He smiled and stood up to rinse the washcloth in the sink.  "I've been trying not to sniff you lately."

"Why?  Do I not smell the same?"

"You smell exactly the same.  I've just been trying to control myself around you, and smelling you isn't going to help that."

I thought about it for a second.  "The pepper spray?"

He nodded, wincing.

"But why do you have to control yourself with me?  I've always been able to take it, haven't I?"

"It's not so much you as it is my sister and Cara."  He dropped the washcloth in the bathtub and sat down on the edge to draw me a bath. "Emma has diminished mental capacity, and the thought of anyone touching her sends me into a rage.  And...well, you're not anywhere near messed up like her, but you were... _slightly diminished_...when we brought you home.  So my mind equates you with her, and the same aversions I have to her being touched apply to you, too."  He turned off the water and held his hand out to me;  I pulled my nightshirt off and took his hand, letting him help me into the tub, holding my arm tightly until I was seated and settled.  It was obvious he was nervous about me possibly having seizures - even though I hadn't had one since I'd come home - and he wasn't ready to start letting me bathe on my own yet.

"And Cara?"

He reached across to get the shampoo but I took it from his hand.  I wanted to do things myself, and letting him coddle me this way wasn't going to help me toward that goal.  He didn't seem to notice and leaned back against the wall while I washed my hair.  "Cara's my child.  I can't even think about the possibility of anyone ever touching her without it making me crazy.  And you, with your whole _everything is new_ outlook on life...you seemed sort of childlike.  I started to think of you the same way I think of her."

"Wow.  You're a decent guy, but I'm never getting laid again, am I?"

He grinned, chuckling a little, glancing over at my bloodied panties laying crumpled on the floor.  "Not this week."

"But didn't you used to - "

"Shhh, Anja, just don't."  He shook his head, wincing a little.

"What?  Why does all the stuff you used to do to me squick you so bad now?"

"I just told you," he growled, leaning forward to tap me between the eyes with his finger.  "Have you forgotten already?"

"Eh, screw you."

He laughed, getting up to get me a towel.  "Not today."

 

The cycle suppressant caused all kinds of weirdness, making me feel like I was having an entire week of PMS in one day, but by morning the next day it was completely over, bleeding and all.  I found the papers Tom had mentioned, stuck in his jacket pocket on the coat rack by the door, and they said this was a side effect that was normal and to be expected.  He saw me reading them and asked what was up.

"My period's already over."  I held the papers up and waved them at him.  "I found them, they say it's normal.  I guess I got lucky, huh."

He came and sat down next to me, flopping onto the sofa with such force that I bounced and fell against him.  He trapped me in his arms and took the papers out of my hands, dropping them onto the coffee table as he tugged me into a tight hug.  "Yeah, you got lucky.  And now I might."

It took me a few seconds, but I caught what he was saying and turned my face up to give him a smile, but before my lips even had the chance to show my happiness, he'd already smothered them in a kiss.

 

He made a lot of phone calls that day.  He refused to have his bruised hand checked by a doctor, so Cara wrapped it and taped his fingers, though he kept taking the tape off, claiming it kept him from being able to pick things up without dropping them.  The swelling had gone from around his eye and there was very little bruising.  When I asked him for the dozenth time to tell me the story on it, he just cocked his eyebrow and shot me that look, the one that warned me not to ask again.  But I always did, and finally he admitted that Laing had gotten in one good punch while he was distracted.

"Distracted by what?"

"His secretary."

He refused to elaborate any further than that, so I dropped it.  

But the phonecalls he was making and receiving sounded worrisome, and I recognized a lot of terms that he was using...legal terms, things I was familiar with from my job, and as I listened and heard them, their meanings came back to me.

_Sexual assault on a mentally diminished adult._

_Sexual battery and coercion of a person unable to give legal consent._

_Criminal abandonment and endangerment of a minor child_.

I knew the first two were about me, and the terms hurt...but I also knew they applied, and that I couldn't take it personally.  Even though I was getting better, I definitely was less capable than I used to be - and my condition at the time of Laing's attack made me by law the equivalent of a mentally disabled person.  I couldn't technically give consent to have sex, so Laing was looking at a possible rape charge just for taking his cock out in my presence.

The third was, I knew, in reference to Ewan's mom and brother.  I didn't know anything about the endangerment part, but Tom had known Ewan and his family for a long time, apparently there was a lot more to their story.  I didn't really want to know the details, but I was curious as to why he was on the phone so much and writing these things down.   _Was he going after Laing?_ There had been no visit from the police, no arrest warrant issued, no court orders served...Tom had fully expected to be sitting in jail by now, but nothing had happened, and I got the sneaking suspicion he was setting up a counter defense for when the time came. Laing had to be up to something.  He was being far too quiet, and I couldn't stop thinking about that tiny hint of a smile as he had looked up at me from the floor, with blood dripping onto his shirt.

The thought made me very, very nervous.

 

That night Tom came into the bedroom, looked over at the closet for a second, then walked over to it and opened the door.  I watched him, wondering what the deal was with him and that damn closet, but decided not to ask because he smiled at me when he caught me looking;  he climbed into bed beside me, stretching out, pulling his shirt off over his head and dropping it on the floor.  When he stretched his arms up the waistband of his sweatpants tugged down a little, giving me a clear view of the wolf tattooed on his hip.  Its significance immediately came back to me and I caught myself looking over at the open closet, feeling like there was some kind of connection between the two - but I was tired and my brain stubbornly refused to fire on all cylinders when it needed sleep, so I snuggled into Tom's side and listened to him breathe for a while, neither of us talking.  I wanted to ask him about the phone calls, but he was laying on top of the covers and I knew that if I pestered him, he would just get up and leave.  So I lay still and quiet, till finally he reached over and turned off the light.

He fell asleep soon after that and I left him alone, not even moving for fear I'd wake him up and he'd leave, hoping he would stay the whole night with me.  

And blissfully, when morning came I felt him behind me, his body spooned up close against me, his long legs entwined with mine.  It felt wonderful;  he was so warm and solid, all of him, and his arm was over me, holding my hand.  It felt right...it felt like _us,_ finally.

I stretched, scooting a little bit away so that I could turn onto my back, clutching my breast as I yawned to keep the sheet from tugging down.

"You have no idea how sexy that is."

His voice took me by surprise;  he was awake and watching me.  I felt a smile trying to pull the corners of my lips up and kept my eyes closed, pretending I was still asleep, murmuring "Hm?" as he put his hand over mine and squeezed, making me massage my breast slowly.  It felt good and I moaned a little.  He let his thumb slip between my fingers and rubbed my nipple with it till my moan repeated itself, louder this time, my back arching and a heated chill rushing through me as he moved my own thumb over to replace his, whispering hotly against my ear, _"Rub it."_

I did as I was told, feeling a warm dampness already beginning to form between my legs.  His hand was still over mine and he nudged my thumb out of the way after a little while of watching me, giving my nipple a pinch, then moved my fingers to where his had been.  I did as he indicated, pinching the now achingly hard nub.  I knew he was watching my face as another moan tumbled huskily from my throat and I arched harder, loving this new game that he seemed so willing to play.

His hand slid down my stomach, stopping between my legs to press his palm over my soft bits.  His long fingers curled under me, rubbing into my panties, and I sucked in my breath at the sharp little spasm of pleasure that shot upward into my belly.

"You play with your nipples, I'll play with your pussy."

I turned halfway away and backed up against him, letting my body mold to his, his arm over me and his hand between my legs.  He slipped his knee between my thighs to keep them open enough for his fingers to move freely, slipping his hand down into my panties so he could rub me, fingers to flesh.  I groaned and pushed my bottom back against his stomach and he chuckled a little, nibbling at my ear.  "You like this, don't you baby girl?"

I found myself unable to answer so I nodded, my eyes clenched tightly shut, my whole body alight with a hotly smoldering desire that was quickly getting ready to burst into an open flame.  His fingers were rubbing me in quick circles while he whispered against my ear, telling me to squeeze my breasts, pinch my nipples harder, rub them gently, pull at them, give them a little tug...I obeyed everything he ordered me to do, my breath coming quicker and anguished moans tumbling from my lips unhindered as his hands and mine brought me to a gasping, clenching orgasm that took my breath away and made me throw my head back against his chest, crying out in a strangled voice while he soothed me with his whispers, urging me to let it take me.

 

"Am I coming back?"

"I don't think you ever actually left, baby.  Just my perception of you has been...off."

I smiled and snuggled back against him.

He pushed me forward a little, turning me so that I was more on my stomach than on my side.  He pulled my panties down and slowly pushed into me.  Gripping my hip to hold me still, he rocked against me from behind, his lips murmuring something across the back of my neck as he pushed my hair out of the way, and I suddenly remembered something, something about us, and the excitement made me stiffen in his arms. He felt it and stopped, his breath still heavy on my skin, waiting for me to tell him what was wrong, his teeth nibbling gently on the sensitive skin at the base of my skull.

_"Do it,"_ I whispered.

He didn't hesitate;  he bit down at the same time that his body pushed down on me, unleashing the primal dominance that I'd somehow forgotten about.   _How could I forget this?_  This feeling of being subdued beneath him, loved and protected and cared for, completely and unreservedly in submission to him, my alpha, as he held me still with his teeth on the back of my neck and his body inside mine... _my mate._

 

After he finished, I lay in his arms for a long time, unable to stop myself from smiling.  He noticed and laughed at me a little, kissing the corners of my mouth, giving me little licks along my jaw and down the side of my neck to make me giggle.  I groaned when I laughed a little too hard and felt his come gush out of me, trickling uncomfortably down my inner thigh;  I squirmed out of his arms and sat up, but he wouldn't let go of me.

"I want to go wash up," I said, trying playfully to tug away from him.  "I'm leaking."

He shook his head, giving me a look that said _You know better._  It confused me a little and I gave him a look back that said so.

"Leave it.  Let it soak in."

I smiled...I remembered this now, too.   _He was marking me._

I lay back on him and he wrapped me in his arms, holding me tight, pressing small kisses along the side of my neck...and as my whole body slowly rose and fell with his breathing, I felt completely, utterly, content.

 

We came out of the bedroom a while later and surprised Cara in the diningroom;  she was at the table eating breakfast and when we stumbled in, crashing through the swinging door as he was poking me in the ribs to make me scream, she jumped and stared at us, her spoon frozen in mid air between the bowl and her mouth.

"Um...good morning?"

Tom smacked me on the butt and I yelped as he pushed past me to head for the fridge.  "Ugh...sorry.  Good morning."  I tried to sound cheery and nonchalant but I knew my ears were burning red, and I could feel the mottled flush across my chest still radiating heat.  Tom called it my come rash, I always got it during intense arousal and he loved to watch it spread across my skin.

Cara looked from me and my splotchy chest to Tom and then back again, one eyebrow going up exactly the way her dad's always did.  "I assume this means there's been a resumption of the kinky shit?"

Tom sat down at the table with a jug of milk and shot her a look.  "Oh for gods sake Cara, could you please not?"

"What?  I'm older than my years, everybody says so.  And I know what you two are like, it's not hard to tell just by looking at you.  Nice sex flush you got going on there, by the way."

"Cara!"

She looked at Tom and grinned.  "What?"

Tom looked at me.  I shook my head and sat down, tugging at the front of my shirt, trying to cover the evidence.

"You're grounded."

"Really?  That's cool, I've never been grounded before."  She got up and gave Tom a hug around the neck from behind as he tipped the milk up to drink from the jug.  "Thanks dad."

"For grounding you?"

"Yeah.  For making the whole parent/offspring experience more realistic.  How long am I grounded for?"

He put the jug down and wiped his chin on his wrist.  "Hell I don't know...an hour?  Does that sound right?"  They both looked at me and I shrugged.

"Don't ask me, I'm just the mom."

 

Tom went to work but came home a couple of hours later with a headache, stretching out on the bed to take a nap, reminding me to wake him at 2:00 so he could go back.  I repeated his instructions to myself several times and shushed him when he laughed at me.  "Just write it down, babe," he finally said, rolling over to get away from the light.  But when I looked at him again he was staring straight ahead, his brow furrowed, a look on his face somewhere between anger and...what?  Apprehension, fear?  If that's what it was, it was barely there, just enough to keep the anger part from being too fearsome.  I followed his eyes across the room to the closet door.  

And then it suddenly came to me, why he was always looking at it that way, as if it was something that shouldn't be there, something from a long time ago that had followed him out of his nightmares and into his reality.

The fucking _closet._  Twelve years old, beaten and locked inside.   _Shit._

What the hell had we done...?

"I know why it bothers you now," I said, without thinking.  "I'm sorry Tom, I forgot."

"What?"  He didn't move, and when I looked at him again he had finally closed his eyes.  Maybe that scowl had been from the headache?

I switched off the light and settled in behind him, close, but not touching him...just enough to let him know I was there.

"Nothing."

 

"Cara, we have to take that door back off the closet in the bedroom."

She looked at me, confused.

"Is this another head-injury-based weirdness thing?"

"No...it's a Tom thing.  He'll be better once it's gone."

"What?  What are you talking about?"

I told her the story as we took off the hinges and lowered the door to the floor, about how he'd been locked in a closet for two weeks after a beating that almost killed him.

"Holy shit, I wish you'd remembered that before we did it!"

"Yeah, me too.  That's why he's been weird."  I looked at the door, now leaning harmlessly against the wall.  "He'll get better now."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	33. Chapter 33

 

 

 

"Now remember, let yourself get mad.  Anger will motivate you to react without second guessing yourself."  He reached out and shoved me, quicker and harder than I expected, and I stumbled backwards, just barely keeping to my feet.

"Damn dad, you're going to hurt her!"

"Not if she doesn't let me."  He watched my face intently and I knew he was keeping close track of whether anything he did was too much.  "She knows how to do this, she's just forgotten."

I wanted to remind them, _I'm right here, I can hear you._..but I was too absorbed in watching the dynamic between them.  Tom truly seemed like a father, albeit an inexperienced one, and though he interacted with Cara as though they were friends more than relatives, it was still there.  He was dad.  He just had to figure out everything that came with it, sort of like I was having to do with my own new take on normalcy.

"How's she supposed to remember that way?"

"Trust me, she will.  This is how things come back to her, she has to see them or experience them.  I've got this figured out."

While he was talking to her, he took his eyes off me for a moment and I ducked down low, ramming into his ribs with my shoulder.  But he was quick and grabbed me around the waist, hefting me up off my feet and dropping to his knees to put me on my back on the floor.  "Nice hit babe, but I saw it coming," he said, slightly out of breath.  "Don't assume that just because I'm not looking at you, I don't see you."  He wrestled me down flat and pinned my shoulders, straddling my stomach and putting his knees on my arms to hold them at my sides.  "Now what are you going to do?"

I was still a little weak and hadn't recovered my full strength yet, but even though he was going easy on me, I was still losing, badly.  It was embarrassing because I knew he'd already taught me all this.  I remembered making him proud once by incapacitating him enough to get away from him, but when I thought about how little actual fight I had put up against Laing, I felt so much shame...I really needed to prove to him that I hadn't lost everything he had worked so hard to teach me.  I struggled under him and Cara walked over and shoved him, trying to knock him off me.  "Stop it dad, this is cruel!"  I got my hands loose while he was momentarily off balance and he grabbed them again quickly, pinning them above my head, ignoring Cara's shouts for him to get off me.  Over his shoulder I saw her behind him, grabbing up one of her big textbooks, so I stopped struggling and frantically called time out.

_"Stop.  Now!"_

Tom looked at me with mild confusion, immediately pulling back and taking his hands off me.  "Are you hurt?"

"No, but you're about to be."

He turned and looked at Cara;  she was shaking with rage, staring at us in shock and anger, ready to club him with _Studies in Wildlife Zoology._ Tom threw his hands up to show her he was stopped.

"Cara, babe, she's fine, I'm not hurting her.  This is how I teach her to defend herself."  He looked at me for backup and I nodded, trying to sit up. "She already had this training, but she's lost it."  He moved over off me to let me up, keeping his eyes on her.  "And if I'd done this sooner instead of sending her off without it, that asshole wouldn't have gotten as far with her as he did."

She didn't look convinced, but when I jumped on Tom's back while he was distracted looking at her, she finally broke down and laughed.  Tom grabbed me and slung me to the floor, stopping just before I crashed, lowering me the last couple of inches cradled in his arms;  he leaned down over me to kiss my nose and I reached up to grab his hair, yanking hard enough to make him hiss out a curse.

"Okay, well it looked real.  You don't shove girls."

He looked down at me, his face just inches from mine, his eyes drifting down to my lips.  "You do if you're someone like her boss.. _.ex-_ boss...which is why she has to know how to shove back."  He bent down quickly and bit my shoulder, causing me to yelp and let go of his hair, but just when he thought I was going to surrender I remembered something from the last time - he had a sore spot, a _very_ sore spot, right above his heart where I'd bitten him. His nip to my shoulder triggered the memory and I slammed my head forward, cracking him hard to the left of his sternum where I knew the scar was.  It took him completely off guard and I was able to draw my knee up and smash it into his side, knocking his weight off me enough for me to get out from under him and scoot away.  I was across the room by the time he caught his breath and looked up.

 _"Fucking hell!_ "  

He was gasping, I wasn't sure from which hit but apparently one of them had done the job.  He saw me far out of his reach and a proud grin spread across his face.  "Good girl, you remembered."

Cara had settled back on the sofa and shook her head at us.  "You guys are weird.  You could be playing Jenga or watching TV.  You're beating each other up."  She put her face in her hands.  "Please don't tell me this is foreplay.  Please, dear god, I'm fifteen, please tell me I didn't just watch my parents doing foreplay."

Tom wiggled his eyebrows at me...and the look on his face had _sorry, kid_ written all over it.

 

That night when he climbed into bed he immediately crept down to push his face between my legs and held me by my knees, keeping me still while he sucked at my clit through my panties.  There was no savoring the moment nor the sensation;  he seemed intent on forcing me to climax as quickly as possible, and damned if he wasn't succeeding.  Watching him punch Laing in his own office - it hadn't been in defense of my honor, it had been pure unadulterated revenge, and though I tried mightily not to admit it to myself, the truth was clearly evidenced by the way my body instantly responded to him now.   _It had turned me right the fuck on,_ and I'd felt this way ever since the day he'd done it.  And knowing he had probably kicked him in the ribs after I left the room was even more arousing.

And now, after being manhandled and thrown around and allowed to kick and bite, I was feeling it even more intensely.  But my brain was a little scattered and the bad habit I'd suddenly developed of saying strange things at the wrong moment reared its ridiculous head just as Tom was tugging my panties down.

"We're going to have to let Cara go home soon, you know."

He moaned, giving me a light nip with his teeth on my labia, right on the plump bit where it's the most tender.  "Do you mind if we don't discuss my daughter while my tongue is in your cunt?"

I giggled and reached down to twist my fingers in his hair, bringing another groan that tickled between my legs.  "Sorry."

"Shhhh," he ordered, getting a tighter grip on my knees to push my legs further apart.  I was thinking, _but your tongue's not in my cunt_  - when suddenly, it was.

_"Ohhh..."_

He chuckled quietly, pushing his tongue in and out, his mouth open wide on me.  I could feel his teeth digging into me slightly, but it didn't hurt...if anything, it heightened the sensation of what his tongue was doing.  I tried to arch my back up but he moved one hand to my stomach and pressed down, holding me still.

And then his tongue switched places, coming back to my clit, licking it hard, alternating with gentle sucks from his lips until I was moaning and gripping the sheets in my fists, unable to open my eyes because the rising white light behind them was just too bright.  I felt his finger slide into me and started to gasp, but it was too late for me to react.  I came, hard, trying desperately to push my hips up but held still by his strong arm across my stomach as my climax broke over me, tensing every muscle and setting every nerve ending alight with cold fire.

 

"I don't want her to go."

"I don't either."

I shifted around so that my head was on his shoulder, my face against his neck.  "She could stay, could't she?  Live with us, transfer her classes?"

"Yes...but where would that leave Tricia?"

I sighed.

"What about my place?  We have two houses and we're only ever in one of them.  Maybe we could talk Tricia into moving here?"

"It's worth asking, I suppose.  But what about Cara's wolves?"

It figured he would be concerned about the wolves.  

"I don't know."

He pulled his shoulder out from under me and shifted around onto his side, moving me so that I had my back to him.  As he spooned up against me from behind, he pressed a kiss behind my ear and whispered "Don't worry about anything sweetheart...things have a way of working out."

It seemed like his words had some other meaning than just reassurance that one day Cara might be a permanent part of our life...but as his arms went around me and his leg slipped between mine as he pulled me tight against him, I decided to just take them at face value.

 

I awoke in the middle of the night, frantically reaching for him, afraid he would have returned to the sofa again - but my hand hit a solid ribcage and I sighed with relief, snuggling into it.  

 _"It's okay, girly,"_ I heard him whisper in the dark.   _"I'm here...I'm not going anywhere."_

 

He woke up early the next morning and quietly left the bed, slipping into the bathroom to shower.  I lay there in the half light listening to him, imagining his long, lean, lithe body, naked with water splashing over his skin, his eyes closed and his beautiful face turned up into the steamy spray as he washed himself...I hoped I would hear him pleasure himself too, but too soon the water went silent and his wet footsteps across the cold tile floor were all that met my ears. _Darn._

"Feeling a little warm in the middle, girly?"

I jumped and opened my eyes to see him standing in the bathroom doorway, dripping wet, still naked - not even a towel around his hips, just standing there as god made him.  I felt my cheeks go hot when I realized I had my hand between my legs;  I was laying on my side with my knees drawn up, but it had to be obvious even from across the room where my hand was.

"I was...I was thinking..."

A grin was starting to come across his lips, but his eyebrow was dipped in that stern, disapproving gaze that so often accompanied it.  It was like his face couldn't agree with itself as to whether he approved or not, so it did both.  I also knew he did it just to mess with me.

"What were you thinking."

I groaned and rolled to my other side, facing away from him, away from those turquoise eyes that refused to release me from their heated stare.

"Thinking about you showering.  I was hoping you would..."

"Hoping I would what?"  His voice had a distinctly amused lilt to it and I bit my lip, knowing he wouldn't let me out of this easily.

"I hoped you would touch yourself."

His hand on my hip made me jump;  I hadn't heard him cross the room, he was so quiet sometimes he reminded me of a cat.  A big, strong, tightly wound black cat, dangerous and snuggly, as apt to bite you as to nuzzle his head into your hand.  He squeezed my hip and shook me a little.  "Now why would I do that when I have you to do it for me?"  He reached over me and took me by the wrist, gently pulling my hand from between my legs.

That new tic my brain had latched onto, my newfound inability to keep from saying things regardless of the inappropriateness of the situation, kicked in and I turned over onto my back to look at him.

"Tell me about us, please?  Something for me to remember, something that hasn't come back yet.  I need to learn something new."

His grin shifted into one of genuine amusement, the disapprovingly cocked eyebrow resuming its normal position, slightly askew but no longer chastising.

"We're a bit kinky."

"Oh?" I asked, feeling suddenly playful.  "How kinky are we?"  I sat up and he let me push him back on the bed, onto his back, and I crawled up on him so that I was straddling his stomach.  His skin was still damp, and the smell of him was suddenly driving me mad...I became deeply aware of not just the scent of his skin and the ozone breath of the water still clinging to it...there was something else, something both above and beneath these surface smells, something unidentifiable.  But it was definitely there, and it was arousing. _"How kinky...tell me..."_  I opened my mouth and kissed him, all tongue and teeth and desperation as I sucked at his lips, listening to his little moans, the quickening of his heartbeat, the sound of the sheets rustling beneath us as he responded to the kiss with as much intensity as I was giving him.

 _"Pretty damn kinky,"_ he murmured against my mouth.

"Oh?  This kinky?"  I slid my hand down his bare stomach, felt his muscles clench and tighten, a shiver rippling across his skin beneath my fingers.  "Hmm?"  I kept kissing him, sliding my lips sensually over his chin, back to his lips, sucking his lower lip till he groaned and his hands came up to grip my hips.  My fingers slipped lower and wrapped around his cock, giving it a little tug;  I giggled against his mouth as it stiffened in my hand.

"Kinkier than that."

"Oh...?  How about this..."  I slipped my hand lower, ghosting my fingertips over the sensitive skin of his testicles, taking them against my palm and giving them a gentle squeeze, listening to his breath catch in his throat as I tugged a little;  the caught breath found its way out through his lips in a sharp hiss that teetered on that very thin line between pain and pleasure as I increased the pressure, just slightly.  He seemed to love balancing there and I gave his upper lip a sharp bite.  "Or this...?"

I moved my hand down further, stroking that spot between balls and ass, tickling him.  He was kissing me back again, raising up to reach me, moving his hands from my hips to my shoulders to try to pull me closer.  I reached up and quickly tugged my shirt off over my head, letting my breasts swing free to rub against his bare chest.  His eyes dropped to them with appreciation, a little smile of approval and desire playing at his lips.

Teasing him was driving me insane and I couldn't stand it anymore.  "How about _this,"_ I growled, pushing my hand under myself, dipping my fingers into my own sopping wetness, pushing them back between his legs and finding his asshole with no hesitation.  I stroked it for a second with one fingertip as he pushed his tongue into my mouth with a deep, heavy groan, then with a hoarse "Are we  _this_  kinky?" I pushed it in.

His whole body tensed and he dropped his head back, his mouth falling open as his eyes clenched shut.  I asked him again as I pumped my finger slowly in and out.

"Are we this kinky...?"

 _"We are now,"_  he moaned back, his voice barely more than a fevered snarl.  I laughed against his lips, devouring him with kisses, licking and sucking and nipping at him, rubbing myself against his swollen cock as I tortured his body with perverse pleasure.

"I'm going to come," he whispered harshly, leaving no doubt in my mind that it would be a matter of only moments before he climaxed beneath me.

"Please do," I encouraged him, rubbing my breasts against his chest, letting my nipples tease his.  His panting took on a deeper tone, more primal, and his voice was strangled when he spoke.

 _"Push your belly against me,"_ he ordered, his voice pleading.   _"Squeeze my cock between us."_

I obeyed, dropping my torso against him, and with a heavy groan he came almost immediately.  His whole body tightened and tensed, his breathing stopped for a long, agonized moment as the pleasure tore through him - and I felt every pulsing shock of it radiating out of him, wetting our bellies with his come as he ejaculated between us.

 _"Oh fuck,"_ he moaned.  "Baby.... _fuck..."_

I grinned, still kneeling over him, kissing his neck and chin as his heavy, raspy breathing made his chest rise and fall under mine so harshly that I wondered if his lungs could take it.  He couldn't get his words together enough to form a coherent sentence other than broken curses, and a shiver of delight coursed through me when I realized - _I'd made him come undone._  

"You're right," I whispered against the wildly throbbing pulsepoint in the side of his neck.  "We're kinky as fuck."

 

 _"It's your turn now,"_ he said with a grin, grabbing my leg at the bend of my knee and turning me over onto my back.  I giggled and squirmed into position, spreading my legs, happy to see his eyes fall to my exposed bits with a wide smile.

"Do the same to me," I said breathlessly, sliding my hands up to squeeze my breasts.  His eyebrow went up.

"You want what you did to me?"

I nodded, excited.  "Yes.  I used to like it, right?"

His grin was widening further.  "Yes, you did baby."  He was running his big warm hands up and down my legs, soothing me, squeezing my thighs before sliding them back down to grip my ankles gently.  He let his fingertips flutter lightly over my toes, making me giggle in delight.  Everything he did felt so good.   _Was it always like this?_  I knew it was...it all felt so familiar, but there was something different about it now, something new.  I could smell his arousal mixing with mine.  Had I ever been aware of that before?  It wasn't just the smell of the come he'd already spilled...it was deeper, more affecting, hitting me on a level so primitive that I almost felt like...

_...an animal._

He knelt between my legs, his lips caressing my skin from the tops of my feet to the curve at my hip where my thigh met the rest of my body, moving across slowly to nudge his chin into that soft, plump mound over my pubic bone.  I sighed, feeling suddenly relaxed and content, not even in any rush for him to do anything more than just _this,_ this sensual play of skin on skin, breath on flesh, his little grin working its way up my body at a pace that fell into rhythm with my breathing.  Every time my heart beat, I felt a kiss touch me.  I remembered his lips doing this to me before, touching each and every mark he'd left on me, thanking me silently for my submission to his claiming.  And though his touch was much more gentle this time, it meant no less.  His tenderness was his appreciation...this was how he said _I love you._

 

As his mouth made its way to my breasts in that agonizingly slow, lazily conquering pace, I sucked in my breath in anticipation of his lips on my nipples.  He knew they were sensitive, he could make me come just by playing with them, and he often sucked them to send me quickly over the edge when he was ready to come himself.  My eyes were closed tight, but when I finally felt his mouth close over one achingly hard nub, I groaned out loud and my eyes flew open.  The view from above, of his dark head slowly moving up and down at my breast, his black hair falling across my chest, tickling my skin...it sent shivers through me.  

_I loved this man._

I knew it, with everything I had in me.  I loved him and he loved me, and our love for each other wasn't just on this level, of human male to human female...we went beyond that.  We were mated for life, transcending two realms, human and animal.  The complete nature of us...the tame and the wild.  And it was all wrapped up in this moment, these blissful few seconds while I was looking down at him, and he raised his head to look up at me.

He smiled, and I heard his words in my heart before they reached my ears.

"I love you, Anja."

 

He tormented me for a while, his mouth sliding wetly from breast to breast as he sucked and bit at my nipples, his tongue teasing and his lips caressing until I was groaning and arching up under him.  While he pleasured one, his fingers played with the other, till I was so wet and wanting that I couldn't stop my hands tugging at his hair, trying to make him stop so I could catch my breath enough to beg him to take me. He sensed I couldn't take much more and settled in between my legs, letting his cock fall heavily against me, grinning when he felt how wet I was against him.

"I think I promised you some of what you gave me," he whispered against my throat, slipping his hand under me, his long fingers nudging in between my cheeks till they found my sensitive back opening and teased it, slicking it with the warm juices that were trickling from me.  Once he'd wetted it enough to ensure he wouldn't hurt me, he eased one finger inside, just enough to make me hiss my breath out with intense, stomach-clenching pleasure.

_"Oh god, Tom..."_

I felt him stiffen between my thighs, his thick heavy cock pressed up tight against my body, eager to slip inside...and when he did, I grabbed desperately at his shoulders, overcome with the powerful sensation of being filled in all my openings, the scenario made complete by his tongue finding its way quickly into my mouth as he thrust hard up into me.  His finger, his cock, and his tongue all moved in a corresponding rhythm that brought me to a sharply careening pinnacle, where he let me balance for a long, agonizing time, till finally I couldn't stop myself from begging him to end it.

_"Oh Tom, I'm going to come.."_

"Go ahead baby," he encouraged me, his own breathing harsh and labored.  "Come for me girl...whenever you're ready."

"Tell me not to."

His pace faltered for a split second as he raised his head to look at me.

"What?"

"Forbid me to come...I want to disobey you."

A slow grin crossed his face, and this time it matched the expression in his eyes.  

 _"Don't you dare,_ " he growled, dropping his voice to a threatening timbre that sent a shiver of heat through me as he nipped at my throat with his teeth, harder than comfort would dictate.   _"If you come I'll have to punish you..."_

 

That voice, that pure dark menace, it rippled in my belly and I felt myself letting go in a whirling vortex of heat and blinding white pleasure that had no words to define it.  I pushed my hips up against his and clenched hard, forcing my inner muscles to grip him deep inside me, dragging him with me as we both came in a noisy, sweaty, violent burst of passion.  I heard myself cursing, pulling at his hair, biting at his shoulders, finally falling as it all ended in a throbbing crash back to earth, where he was already waiting for me, his eyes on my face and a smile on his lips.

 

It was getting on in the day and we hadn't even gotten out of bed yet, save for Tom taking his shower earlier, but neither of us had any desire to leave the warmth of the damp, tangled sheets yet.  We napped a little and then made love again, less unbridled this time and more leisurely, with a little more kissing and a little less kink.  But as I was quickly rediscovering - _it was all us,_ all of it, from one extreme to the other and everything in between.  And just lying there in his arms made me feel like I was home, complete, whole again.  It was all coming back.  The rest would follow.

 

When I woke up again, Tom was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from me.  I scooted close to him and slipped my arms around his waist, laying against his back, feeling his strong heartbeat against my cheek.  It was racing.

"Tom - ?  What's wrong?"

He sighed, putting a hand over mine on his stomach, playing absently with my fingers.

"I can't be in that situation again," he said quietly.  "I just can't."

"What?"  I had no idea what he was talking about, and felt a jolt of cold fear shoot through my nervous system.  His voice sounded wrong.  "What situation?"

"In the hospital.  I wasn't allowed to sign the next of kin papers.  If you had taken a turn for the worse, there would have been nothing I could do - I would have no say in whether you lived or died and I'd have had to just stand there and watch the hospital board decide whether it was cost effective enough to keep you alive."  I felt his body tense as his voice grew more angry.  "I'm not going through that.  I won't be in that situation again."

I cringed, closing my eyes tight, ready to hear the worst.  It was a struggle to get my voice out, and when I did, it was small and weak.  "What are you saying?"

He had turned his face toward the window and was staring out it, his eyes not settling on anything.  If I'd asked him what he was seeing, I doubt he'd have been able to give me an answer.  His whole body was taut and trembling a little, like he was getting ready to snap.  I felt genuinely scared.

"I'm saying I'm going to have to be your husband and not just your mate, so I can tell them to leave your fucking plug in the wall the next time your brain decides to blow up."

It took a moment for the words to sink in.  I'd been expecting to hear  _I can't do this anymore_  or, worse, _I'm leaving, I'm sorry._  He turned his head and looked at me.  He had stopped shaking.  

"So...marry me, bitch pudding?"

 

 

_To be continued..._


	34. Chapter 34

 

 

When we finally got out of bed, Tom dressed quickly and left the room to find Cara.  "I'm going to be tied up at the pub with deliveries and you've got an appointment with the specialist, don't forget."  He looked back at me as he was going out the door, noticing that I hadn't moved yet from the edge of the bed, the sheet wrapped around me, staring down at the band on my thumb.  "You should probably go ahead and get dressed, girly.  I'll go make sure Cara knows your schedule for the day."

I nodded, shifting my stare to the again-doorless closet, letting my head sort itself out.  He'd said too many things too quickly on too many subjects and it was all taking a little time to separate itself in my brain. He was still looking at me and I nodded again, giving him a smile.  "Have you got all that?"

"Yeah, I think so.  I have a doctor appointment and you have to go to the pub."

He waited, his eyes never leaving my face, his voice growing softer and quieter when he spoke again.  "Would it be better if I stay and go with you instead?"  

My heart sank a little;  he didn't think I would be okay to do it by myself.  I knew he didn't mean it to be insulting, but I felt just that - a little insulted.  I would have Cara to keep me on schedule and get me where I needed to go, so I shook my head and smiled as reassuringly as I could, shaking off his unintentional insinuation.

"No, I can do it.  Just remind me what I'm supposed to ask the doctor."

"I wrote it down and put it in your bag by the door.  You need to make sure he writes you a scrip for some new birth control, something that your seizure meds won't interfere with.  It's important because the cycle suppressant is probably worn off by now."  He paused, waiting for me to respond.  "Think you can remember that?"

I rolled my eyes and flopped back on the bed.  "Yes, I can remember that."

"Get your ass out of that bed and get dressed.  I want you ready to go when I get back."

"I want to shower first."

"No, leave it."

"But you already marked me - "

"Leave it, Anja.  Now _get up."_

I made a face at him as I heard him walking away.  I still felt tingly and a bit worn out from our morning lovemaking, but as easy as it would have been to doze off for a few minutes, I knew he would come back and catch me.  I wasn't sure if he would punish me playfully or snap at me in irritation and drag me off the bed, so I went with the better option of just doing as I was told.  And as I did so, I couldn't stop myself giggling until my face felt hot.  It wasn't the proposal little girls dream of, but it was undeniably, irrefutably _us._ He had asked me and I had said yes.  And even though I knew it really didn't mean anything significant to either of us, mated for life as we already were, it still sent a happy shiver through me. 

I pulled the top drawer open and rummaged around, looking for some clean underwear, when my hand bumped into something stiff.  I pulled it out and looked at it, wondering for a moment why Tom would have a dog collar in his dresser.  He'd never had a dog as long as I'd known him.

_And then I remembered..._

Tom's voice caressed over my ears, standing close behind me;  I hadn't heard him come back into the room and he had approached so silently that I didn't know he was there till he spoke.

"Do you recognize that?"

I nodded, still holding it in my hands, staring at it as I rubbed it reverently with my thumbs.  "I do."  I looked at him as he moved around to stand beside me, his arm across my back with his hand resting on the back of my neck.  "I remember it.  You made it for me."

He smiled, a sweet smile that made me feel warm all over.

"And do you know what it's for?"

It was my turn to smile.  "Yes.  I only put it on when I want to.  And when I do, I'm completely submissive to you."

His hand on the back of my neck squeezed a little, sending a heated shiver through me.  I suddenly, desperately wanted to put the collar on, but I knew we both had places to be.  I looked up at him, pleading. "Can I wear it tonight?"

He took it slowly from my hands and unbuckled it, holding it open in front of me.  I stepped forward so that the soft leather touched the front of my throat and he gently wrapped it around my neck, buckling it in the back.

"I'll let you wear it for just a few minutes, and then we need to go."

The moment the buckle was closed, I felt like a different person.  It was almost overwhelming, dizzying, my desire to please him...intensified a thousandfold by the absolute assuredness I felt that he would become a different person too, taking gentle care of me while I fulfilled my subservient nature to him.  I wanted it _so bad..._

When I realized I'd had my eyes closed, I quickly opened them to find him smiling at me, his own eyes soft and kind as he watched me.  His hands were moving slowly up and down my arms.   _"Tell me what you want, baby girl."_

"I want to make you happy.  I want to make you smile."

"You've already done that...you said yes, remember?"  He pulled my left hand up to his lips and kissed the silver band on my thumb.  "What would _you_ like?"

Something that had been hanging in the back of my mind came pushing to the front - something I remembered wanting so badly.

"I'd love you to spank me."

Once the words were out, I knew they were right, despite the hesitation I'd felt when I first started to speak them.  But I remembered now.  He owed me one.  And I remembered him promising me in the hospital, while I was sleeping but could still hear him, that he would make good on that debt.  I wasn't sure how he would take my request, but when I looked up at him again, he was smiling.

"A very gentle one, sweetheart.  You're still recovering, I can't be too rough with you."  He moved over to the bed and sat down, tugging me along with him by the hand.  "Come on."

Barely able to suppress my excitement and sudden nervousness, I let him pull me gently down across his lap, wriggling to get comfortable as he rubbed and stroked my bottom with his palm;  I was still bare bottomed from our morning sex but had put my nightshirt back on, and he pushed it up so he could rub my back with his other hand.  Once I was settled, he wrapped his long fingers around the back of my neck and applied very gentle pressure.

"Tell me when you're ready, baby," he whispered, caressing my naked cheeks with his fingertips.  I shivered and hugged tightly to his leg.

"I'm ready."

The anticipation tightened in my stomach, waiting for him to smack me...I felt him rub me very gently, then the weight of his hand left my bottom and I sucked in my breath, letting it out with a gasp when he hit me with a light slap.  I knew he wasn't going to be rough with me, but that gentle blow was every bit as erotic and exciting to me as the near-brutal spanking I remembered from last time.

_"Ohhh..."_

The sound that came from my lips sounded like pure pleasure and I knew he'd heard it.  He gave me another little slap, on the other cheek this time, and I squirmed a bit on his legs.

"Be still, baby girl."  He spanked me again and I squirmed more, wriggling in excitement.  His hand on the back of my neck squeezed just a tiny bit tighter.  "You don't seem to be able to obey today, do you?  Do you need me to restrain you?"  He rubbed his palm across my cheeks, squeezing them one at a time, stroking and caressing.  I nodded, barely able to keep from groaning with arousal.  He chuckled softly.  "Give me your hand."

I let go of his leg with my right hand and he reached down to take me by the wrist, gently bringing my arm up behind me, bending it at the elbow so that the back of my hand rested on the small of my back.  He held it there with his left hand.  "Now do as you're told and lie still, sweetheart."  He gave my wrist a little squeeze and spanked me again, still gently, but just hard enough for it to sting.

I felt myself begin to drip, warm juices trickling slowly out of me, wetting the inside of my thigh.  I whimpered and he slipped his fingers between my cheeks, nudging downward till they teasingly caressed my swollen outer folds.  "Plump and soft, just the way I like them," he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.  He leaned forward and I felt his breath on my bottom, right before he gave my left cheek a sharp bite.

I suddenly wanted him so bad that I actually started to cry a little.  It surprised me;  I knew from the hospital papers that my hormones were messed up from the cycle suppressant and that it could make me moody, but this was just silly.  Tom pressed a kiss to the palm of my hand where it lay on the small of my back, then released my wrist and took me by the shoulders, bringing me up off his lap.

"Spanking's over, stand up baby," he ordered me quietly.  I obeyed, and as soon as I was standing before him, he nudged my legs apart and brought me back down on his lap again, straddling him, face to face. With his hands behind my knees he scooted me up close to his body, then wrapped his arms around my back, nuzzling into my cheek with his lips as he planted soft little kisses across my face.  "We have time for a bit more, if you feel up to it."  His hands came up to my neck and unbuckled my collar, removing it from my throat and setting it aside on the little table next to the bed.

I sniffled and let him move me till I was sitting with his stiff cock pressed tight between us.  Softly scratchy whiskers rubbed against my throat as he pressed kisses into my skin, his warm breath tickling me, his lips leaving warm damp marks wherever they touched.  I pushed up against him and listened to him groan.

"Tell me to do something," I whispered, my voice needy as my hands roamed over his chest and shoulders, tugging his shirt up and dragging it off over his head.  "Give me an order...I need to disobey you again."

"Now why would you want to do that, girly?"  His own voice was heavy with a potent mix of desire and amusement, and the devilish little smile on his lips assured me that he approved of this new perversion I'd taken a liking to.  I tried to kiss it away, that smirking little grin, but my lips were met with his tongue and I ended up sucking and biting at it while his fingers slipped unnoticed underneath me.

"Tell me we don't have time...tell me I can't have you."  I groaned and pulled hard at his lower lip with my teeth when those sneaking fingers found their way to that place between my legs where the wetness was welling and dipped quickly inside.   _"Oh!_ \- say I have to...to wait...tell me no."  I pushed against his chest but he didn't budge.

 _"My good little girl is a naughty little bitch."_  That voice...he was growling, all threat and menace and amused malice, so close to my ear I could feel his breath.  He suddenly smacked my bottom and I yelped, jerking against him.  "I told you I have to get to work, the delivery men are coming.  Shall I drag you down there with me in your nightshirt and no panties and tell them you're the reason I'm late?  Hmm?"  He pulled his hand out from under me and licked his palm, never taking his eyes off me.  I gripped his shoulders tightly and pushed up closer against him, rubbing myself on his bulge.

"I just _want you - "_

 Another stinging smack to my bottom.  "Stop whining."

I whimpered and pushed against him harder, parts of me starting to quiver with need while parts of him began swelling and twitching in response, our bodies communicating on that primal level that requires nothing more than the presence of each other.  I wanted him inside me so badly that I was dripping on his lap.

"I _need_ you."

"No."

"Oh please... _please please Tom..."_  I was still nibbling at his lips, grinding myself on him now.

"I said no - now stop kissing me and get yourself dressed like I told you.  We have places to be."  He gripped my hips and sat me off of him, standing up and turning to glare down at me with a stare that plainly said he was getting off on this every bit as much as I was.

"But you said we had time for more."  I rolled over onto my back and bent my knees, letting my shirt ride up to my stomach, exposing my lower half to his view.  His eyes immediately fell between my legs and I could see the naked lust in his gaze.  As I was closing my own eyes I saw him reach for my leg;  I assumed he would spread them and bury either his face or his cock between them, but I gasped in surprise when instead he yanked me to the edge of the bed.

"I said _get your ass up and get dressed!"_ With a quick flip he tossed me over onto my stomach and gave me another hard smack on the ass.  I yelped loud and scrambled back onto my back again, giving him a defiant look and kicking at him.  He held onto my ankle and pushed my leg up till my knee was pressed against my shoulder, completely immobilizing me.

I stared him in the eye and shook my head.

_"No."_

"Did you just tell me no?"

"Um...yes."

He grinned.  "Well which is it, yes or no?"  He had moved onto the bed on his knees and had my foot resting against his shoulder, his eyes straying to my bare crotch.  "I need to know if you're being defiant or obedient so I know what to do next."  His hand stroked slowly down from my ankle to my knee, tickling behind it before sliding down the back of my thigh to my butt.  The way he was holding me, my entire underside was tilted up and brazenly on display.  I pushed against his shoulder with my foot and he reached up to move it, letting my leg slide over his back as he knelt down over me.

"You said get up and get dressed."

"Yes, I did."  His fingers teased across my bottom, coming close to my girly bits but stopping just shy of touching them.

"I said no."

A pained yelp jerked from my throat as he flicked my clit unexpectedly with his finger.

"That's what I _thought_ you said."  He grabbed my leg that was over his shoulder and dropped it to the bed.  I watched him with curiosity, wondering what he was going to do, when he suddenly flopped over onto his back next to me and tucked his arms up behind his head.

He knew.  Not only did he know how wet I was with wanting him, he knew I wouldn't just accept his feigned disinterest and do as I was told.  I felt it was a fair bet that he was counting on it.  Defying him was making me almost dizzy with desire, and he knew that too - but now he was changing the game.  Now it was up to me.

I climbed over on top of him and sat on his stomach, sliding back a little till I was on his groin.  His cock was behind me and I wriggled back against it, groaning a little when I felt it pushing against my ass.  "Why does that feel so good?" I gasped out, resting my weight on my hands.  The look in his eyes was pure heated desire and he lifted his hips a little, grinding himself on me.

"Because you remember how much you like it."

"Do I?" I asked, biting my lip as I wiggled my butt again, feeling him stiffen even more;  his cock was standing almost straight up now inside his sweats and when I pushed back on it, it didn't move easily.  "I like this?"

"Yes girly, you do."  He brought his hands up to my breasts and palmed them through my shirt, rubbing his thumbs roughly over my nipples, back and forth till I gasped out a little cry of dismay at the intensity of the sensation. "I fucked you in the ass the first time we slept together.  Do you remember that?"

I nodded, my eyes clenched tightly shut against the overwhelming feeling of needing this - needing him, needing whatever he wanted to do to me, just needing him inside me in some way, I didn't care where or how.  I reached down between my legs and pushed his sweats out of the way.

"Please do it," I groaned, pushing back again, knowing his cock would be slick with my juices now that I'd rubbed against it naked.  "Please?"

He sat up under me and grabbed me by my hips, throwing me over onto my back on the bed.  I lay still and let him move me however he wished, amazed at how easily he could position me the way he wanted, as if I weighed nothing.  "Are you sure, Anja?  It hurts a bit, you're very small."  His hand was between my legs, his second finger sliding back and forth in the warm slick between my vagina and my asshole, sliding down further to tease the tight opening.  I hissed a little and closed my eyes again when he pushed gently against it with a fingertip.  "You're very very tiny..."  He nudged his finger in, just the tip.  "...and very very tight..."  I cried out and pushed my hips down when his finger slipped in past the second knuckle.  He'd done this to me the previous night, but with just the tip of his finger.  It was burning a bit, but I remembered that first night and several more nights since, when he'd pushed his cock nearly all the way into me from the back, stretching me wide and making me scream with pain and pleasure that mingled so deliciously that I came without him ever even touching my clit.  "Are you certain you want this?"

I nodded, my eyes closed tight, trying not to give in too much to the sensations, afraid I would come too fast.

"That's not good enough, girly," he chastised me, taking my chin in his other hand and turning my head toward him.  "Look at me."  I opened my eyes but could barely see him through the foggy haze of desire that was clouding more than just my ability to think straight.  I stared at him, still nodding.  He shook his head no.  "You know the rules about consent, girl.  You have to say it out loud.  You have to hear yourself agree to it the same as I hear it."

His fingers were gripping my chin tightly enough to be uncomfortable, but I knew he was doing it so that I'd pay attention and take him seriously.  The second finger of his other hand was still in my ass, but it was no longer moving and I groaned, clenching, tightening up on it and shuddering a little at the sensations that shot through me from the pressure.  "Yes," I finally choked out, sobbing a little.  "I want this."  His thumb came up to rub across my bottom lip and I bit it, hard.   _"Please."_

He grinned a little, an evil light coming into his eyes.  "Then tell me what you want.   _Exactly_  what you want."

My stomach tensed with the excitement of knowing that he wanted to hear my voice.  My voice saying the details of what I hoped he'd do to me.  I knew he would get harder, more turned on, the more I spoke...my face went a little hot as the words started coming out of my mouth.

"I want your cock where your finger is."  I pushed my bottom down, forcing it further into me.  "I want -  _oh! - god_...I want...I want you to fuck me...right there.   _Please."_

While I spoke I wriggled my hips, grinding down on his hand.  He let me, smiling down at me, his eyes watching my lips, and I felt his breath quickening against my cheek.  "Right here?"  He wiggled his finger and I groaned.  "Of course, baby.  You only needed to ask."

Slipping his finger out of me and shushing me when I moaned in disappointment, he pulled at my hip and turned me over onto my stomach.  With his hands gliding soothingly over my back and bottom, he whispered, "Get comfortable, baby girl," as he moved my legs apart and began stroking slowly up and down the backs of my thighs with his fingertips.  I heard him open and then close the bedside drawer as I shifted and settled, bringing my arms up over my head.  My breasts felt squished under me and I fidgeted a little, whimpering.  He knew what was wrong and knelt over my back, sliding his hands up under my chest and cupping my breasts in his palms, shifting them up a little.  "Better?" he asked quietly from beside my head, and I sighed in approval...he always seemed to know what I needed, often before I did.

"Lift your hips, baby."

I obeyed, arching my bottom up, letting him lift me enough to slip a pillow under my lower stomach and upper thighs.  This position left me completely exposed and open, and he gently blew his breath across my very wet underside, giving me a sudden chill that felt both thrilling and unsettling.  A moment later I felt the terribly disconcerting sensation of cold lubricant being dribbled onto my butt, running down between my cheeks.  I flinched and he chuckled a little.  "Sorry sweetheart, I know it's a bit chilly.  Here, let me warm you back up."

He slipped a well lubed finger inside, slowly, soothing me with gentle words when I tensed and a groan escaped my lips.  "It's okay sweetheart...I'm going to be very careful with you...relax, loosen up for me."

I did as I was told and as soon as I exhaled, he slipped a second finger in with the first, pushing it in quickly.  I gasped and my body jerked against the sudden intrusion, but it quickly felt good...so _so good_...and I relaxed again, sighing deeply.  I bit my lip to hold back a squeal of excitement when I felt him start to pump them slowly in and out of me.

"Would you like me to stroke your clit?" he asked quietly;  I shook my head frantically, then remembered I was supposed to use words.

 _"No!_   No...please...I'll come way too fast if you do."

I heard him laugh a bit, his voice low and quiet, as if he didn't want to startle me by speaking too loudly.  "You want to wait until I'm balls deep in your ass, don't you baby girl."

"Oh god," I groaned... _if he kept talking to me like that I'd never last._   Already I could feel my stomach tensing, my breath quickening.  I grabbed the sheets and gripped them hard when he suddenly began scissoring his fingers back and forth, deep inside me.

 _"Unnnggh...oh...fuck...Tom..."_   My words were so broken and breathless that they were barely recognizable as a sentence, but it was all I had.  His fingers were making me burn but I loved it, the discomfort, the intensity of the sensation, the incredibly erotic intimacy of letting him do this to me.  I trusted him completely, to take care of me, to hurt me only as much as I desired and not one bit more, and I knew he would never cross the line into forced pain.  He would give me what I asked of him and then he would stop when I said it was enough.  He would never,  _never,_  go too far.

I was pulling hard against the sheets when he moved in between my legs, withdrawing his fingers slowly, calming me with softly spoken words while he lubed himself.  I could hear the wet sound of his hand moving over his cock and became suddenly, intensely aware that I was dripping, secreting lube of my own, trickling slowly out of my vagina onto the bed.  He crouched down briefly and licked my pussy, slurping up the spilled juices, letting his tongue slip caressingly over my clit just enough to make me cry out before he pulled his face away and got up onto his knees behind me, his cock settling heavily onto my back. Gripping my ass cheeks with his big warm hands, he squeezed gently before spreading them and slipping his cock down to push teasingly against my hole.

"Relax for me, baby," he whispered, his voice completely controlled.  I felt better knowing that he wasn't going to lose himself - his cock was huge, he could easily hurt me  _very_  badly if he let himself go nuts even for a moment.  I knew he wouldn't.

I clutched at the sheets above my head, turning my face to bury it in the mattress while I willed myself to let go of all the tension in my lower muscles.  He needed easy passage or it would be uncomfortable for both of us.   _"Good girl,"_  I heard him say under his breath as he pushed in, the head of his cock opening me and slipping inside with little resistance.  "That's it baby, that's it...good girl...you're such a good girl Anja..."  He patted my bottom with one hand while the other gripped my hip to keep me from moving while I sucked in my breath and whimpered.  The edge of my opening was burning but the discomfort was fading quickly as pleasureful sensations replaced it in my awareness - the sensation of being filled, completely.  I wanted to push back on him but knew I had to keep very still and let him do everything.  He knew I was struggling and stilled his hips, not moving, waiting for me to calm.  A warm kiss pressed to the middle of my back and I sighed.

"Do you remember this, girly?"

I did - I remembered how I had blindly trusted him that first night, how he hadn't betrayed that trust, the careful way he'd kept it safe as he fulfilled his promise not to hurt me.  It felt the same now.

"I do."

He hesitated, stopping where he was, his hands gently squeezing my hips.  "Do you still like it as much as you did?"

I buried my face in the sheets to hide my smile.  "I do."

One hand moved from my hip to slide underneath me, fingers quickly finding my clit and giving it a gentle stroke as he slowly pushed himself the rest of the way in, letting me take him a slow inch at a time, till finally I felt him completely inside me.  I realized I was panting with each slow push, and he was waiting for me to exhale before each gentle thrust.

And those fingers...they were working me to a frenzy, a quick one, till he had to shush me and rub my back to calm me so that I didn't move too much.

"Oh god," I moaned, pulling at the sheets so hard that the mattress was bare above my head.  "Please Tom, _please tell me you're ready to come - "_

He leaned forward over my back, letting me support his weight for a few seconds as he kissed the back of my neck, giving me a hard bite.   _"Say when, baby."_

His fingers rubbed harder and on the next thrust I let myself go, crying out as the icy hot rush of tension in my belly boiled over, forcing me to clench my muscles on his cock where it was buried deep inside me. There was a long moment where our groans hit the same fevered pitch before mine rose to a muffled scream and his devolved into a panting curse, shouting out my name as he collapsed against my back, holding most of his weight up off me with his arms on either side of me.

After a moment where we both struggled to catch our breath, he pulled himself out of me carefully and rolled over to my side, pulling me over onto his chest.  I was shaking as he wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head, still panting, his chest heaving as much as mine.

"What time is it?"  I asked, craning my neck to try to see the clock on his phone.  "You have the delivery guys coming - "

He laughed a little, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.  "I called Ewan while I was out of the room.  I knew I wasn't going to get there in time."  He rubbed my shoulder, letting me turn so that my back was to him.  "And your appointment's been moved to this afternoon."

"I should have known."

"Yes, you should have."  There was a warm amusement in his voice, touched with something else.  I knew what it was and it made me smile.

As I lay there in his arms, I reached over to the bedside table and touched my collar.  Sitting there, unused, it still gave me a powerful feeling of submission and desire to please him, as well as the excited feeling of knowing he and I had something very special, very private, that was just ours...I picked it up and hugged it to my chest, snuggling back against him, letting him tighten his arms around me.  He extended one finger and stroked the collar as I held it, pressing his lips to that sensitive place behind my ear, sighing with contentment as he pushed up closer to me.

"I love you bitch pudding.   _Mrs_ bitch pudding."

A slow smile spread across my face;  I felt it creeping, uncontrollable, until it brought a silly little girlish giggle out of me and I pressed my hand over my mouth to hide it.  Tom's fingers came up to pry it away and I struggled briefly before letting him win.

"Wouldn't _you_ technically be  _Mister_ bitch pudding?"

He yawned, stretching out as he brought his arm up around my neck, squeezing till I laughed and struggled against it.  

"Whatever you want, girly," he said with a chuckle.  "I'll be anything you need me to be."

As I snuggled back down in his arms again, there was no doubt in my mind that he was telling the truth.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	35. Chapter 35

 

 

 

 

I sat in the waiting room of the doctor's office, gingerly rubbing the bruise on the back of my neck.  My hair covered it so no one could see it, but it was so tender it felt like just the weight of my hair was making it sore.  Tom and his biting.  But I loved it, it kept his face in my mind constantly, and every time I felt the mark I remembered him putting it on me, his lips pressing softly against my skin as his teeth dug in.  I shivered and Cara turned the page in her magazine. 

"I don't know who was louder last night, you or dad."  Her tone was mildly scolding, but with that undertone of barely concealed amusement that I heard so often from her father.

"Sorry about that."

"And then this morning."

"Yeah..."  I squirmed a little, wincing from a slightly sore bottom.  "Again, sorry."

She never took her eyes off her magazine.  "No worries...I can't hear you in my room, so there's that.  I just happened to be on my way to the kitchen when you guys were hitting your peak."  She finally gave me a sideways glance, her brow knitted in a way that was either consternation or confusion, though I wasn't sure which.  "Was someone hitting the doorframe with a bedroom slipper?"

"What?"

"Never mind."  There was a little grin that I ignored as she went back to her magazine.

I stared at the TV in the corner, up near the ceiling, trying not to grin myself as memories of the previous night and earlier that day kept pushing their way into my thoughts.  Every time I fidgeted in my chair, my tender butt reminded me of the spanking he'd given me, along with the gentle reintroduction to one of our other favorite deviances.  My sore neck reminded me of the claiming bite, and everything else, every sore bit, every tender spot, every little purplish red mark his mouth had left on my skin, made me feel happy and complete.  Tom had been in such an improved mood since we'd taken the door back off the closet...I felt so bad about doing that to him, I was mad at myself for not remembering the reason it was off in the first place.  He'd told me it was down when he moved in and he just never put it back up, but once I knew why - it infuriated me that I'd forgotten something that important. And the fact that he never got on me for it or angrily ripped the door down on his own meant so much to me.  He could have at least chastised me for it and told me why he wanted it down, but he didn't.  He'd tried to live with it, and probably would have if I hadn't remembered on my own.

But now, since I'd finally remembered and remedied the situation, his whole demeanor was suddenly different.

"He's feeling better, I think."

"Obviously.  And you seem to be too."  Cara looked at me, then at the TV.  The volume was down and the subtitles were scrolling up from the bottom of the screen, but I couldn't read them - I'd forgotten my glasses.  Of all the things I remembered and that were sticking with me, the fact that I needed glasses to read anything beyond a few feet wasn't one of them.  "Do you remember what you're supposed to ask the doctor today?"

I nodded, rubbing at my neck again.  "Birth control, anti-seizure meds, and check my hearing.  But I don't think there's anything wrong with it, he just sneaks up on me."

"He does that to me too.  But you need it checked anyway because you don't hear whispers at all."

"I do too.  I just need a quiet background."  She shook her head at me but didn't say anything.  "He proposed to me this morning."

"He what?!  Seriously!?"

"Yeah."  I giggled a little, the reality of it finally sinking in since I'd actually told someone.  My phone was vibrating in my jacket pocket and I fished it out, thinking it would be Tom.  I smiled until I saw it was a text from a number I didn't recognize.

_RWL:  Are you alright?_

I tried to think who RWL would be.  It took me a few seconds, and when it hit me, I couldn't stop myself craning my neck around to check every face in the lobby.  But without my glasses, I just found myself squinting at a bunch of unrecognizable strangers.

"What's wrong mom?"  Cara took my phone and looked at the message.  "Who is RWL?  RW...L...Is that your boss?  Laing?"

I nodded, feeling a little bit sick.  Why was he asking if I was alright?  Why was he talking to me at _all?_

"Are you going to answer it?"

"No."  I deleted the text and blocked the number.  "I don't need to talk to him."

 

It was raining when we got home, and Cara went to her room to do one of her classes online while I called Tom and told him how my appointment went.  He seemed distracted and I could hear a lot of noise behind his voice, but even after he went into the back room for some quiet, he still seemed out of sorts.  

"Listen babe, I'm going to come home," he finally said with a sigh.  "Why don't you lie down and I'll be there soon."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine.  Take a little nap.  I'll wake you when I come in."

I did as I was told;  the rain made it easy to doze off quickly, and it felt like I'd only been asleep for a few minutes when I heard him come in.  Rolling over sleepily, I opened my eyes to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling his boots off.  I reached out with one hand and ran a fingertip down his back.

He looked back at me over his shoulder and smiled.

"How'd your doctor visit go?"

I stretched, still drowsy.  The rain on the window was lulling me back to sleep.  "Was good.  He gave me some new pills, but he said it would take a full cycle before they really take effect."

He settled in on the bed next to me, pushing his face into the side of my leg.  "I'd better wear a condom for a while then."  A happy sigh escaped my lips as his big warm hand rubbed slowly up and down on my thigh.  "And your meds?"

"He switched me to Neurontin, I'm supposed to take it for two weeks and see how it does me.  If I have trouble he's going to switch me to something else."

"You been having those blankouts?"

"Not much.  I don't think I did it at all today."

He turned his face up and his eyes settled on my lips.  "And what about your hearing?"  He reached up and pushed my hair back to tickle my earlobe.  "He find any problem with that?"

"Tinnitus.  That's why I can't hear in crowds, my brain concentrates on the buzzing.  The rest is just noise."

He seemed happy with my answers and nuzzled his face back into the side of my leg, his fingers entwining with mine on my stomach.  "I heard from Laing today."

Without thinking, I answered, "So did I."

His head jerked up, a look of alarm on his face.  "What?"

"He texted me.  Asked if I was okay."

"Why would he ask if you're okay?"

"I dunno - maybe he saw me at the hospital and thought I was sick.  It was just one text, I didn't answer it."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then patted my leg.  "Good girl."  He sighed and let his head fall back to the bed.  "Mine was a little less amiable than that.  I have to meet with him next week."

I stroked his hair and didn't say anything;  I didn't know what to say.  He was in this because of me, it had been me from the very start.  Laing would never have even cared about his existence if it hadn't been for me rejecting him at every turn.  My refusal to be seduced by him had drawn his vengeful attention to Tom, and now here we were, him about to hurl an aggravated assault charge in our direction and us about to fire back with a sexual assault counter charge.  I wasn't comfortable with it, but it was what it was.

"Are you okay with telling what happened to you?"

"Yeah.  I can do that."

"You'll have to tell them everything."

"Do we have an attorney?"

"Yes.  I'm meeting with Laing next Tuesday, so I'm going to take you to speak with the lawyer tomorrow."  He squeezed my fingers where our hands were resting together on my hip.  "Think you can handle that?"

I scooted down so that we were face to face and snuggled into him, his arms coming around me to pull me close as I murmured _"Mnn hmm,"_ pushing my face against his.  He kissed me between my eyes and settled with his lips against my forehead.

It wasn't long before we were both asleep.

 

Something pulled me out of my slumber, slow but undeniably intrusive;  as consciousness slipped slowly back in, I became aware of things one by one.  First was the unmistakable weight of Tom's arm across my waist, followed by the bump of his hips against my backside as he pressed up to me from behind.  A smile came sleepily across my lips and I let myself slip back into that dreamy half-state where you're not quite awake but not quite asleep either...by the contented sigh that escaped his lips, it felt like he was going to spoon me and settle down again.  But he didn't.  Over the soft sound of the still falling rain I could hear the unmistakable heaviness of arousal in his breathing, that ragged, deep exhale that followed a quick, shallow inhale.  I knew what was about to happen and reached down to stop his hand on my hip as he was pushing me over onto my stomach.

"Stop Tom, wake up."

He moaned a little into my ear as he pushed against me with his chest and it was obvious he was going to fuck me in his sleep.  Once he got started there was generally no stopping him.  His right arm was under my neck and already moving down to rub my breasts, his left tugging my pants down as his leg came up between mine and wedged up against my crotch.  The pressure felt wonderful and sent a quick pulse of desire through me to run in tandem with the arousal that his fingers were quickly stirring up as they squeezed and rubbed at my nipples.  I didn't want him to stop...but I suddenly had a horrible dread of the possibility of getting pregnant, based on what the doctor had said about my new pills, and the need to make him stop was greater than my need to have him inside me.

"I mean it Tom, quit - wake up."  I elbowed him in the ribs, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to get his attention and wake him up.

"Hm?  What's wrong?"  He sounded confused as he propped himself up on his elbow behind me;  glancing over me quickly and ascertaining that nothing was wrong, he lay back down and thrust his hips against me, sighing deeply and kissing my shoulder.  "Don't you want to screw, baby?"

"Yes, I do."  I slapped at his hand as it snaked its way down to my crotch.  "But it's not a real good idea for me to get pregnant right now, is it?"

He looked mildly surprised for a moment, then raised his eyebrows and nodded.  "You're right.  Sorry."

"It's okay, just get a rubber."

"A rubber?"  He started laughing, shaking the bed.  "What are you in seventh grade?"

"I didn't know what a rubber was in seventh grade.  Be nice."

He was still laughing when he reached over me to open the bedside drawer.  "Oh by the way, I was thinking maybe we should move into your place."

"Really?"

"Yeah.  You're right, it's bigger.  We can get Cara to help us move before she goes home."

"Because yeah, that's why people have kids, to help them move."

"Well," he grinned, ripping open the wrapper and starting to roll the condom onto himself, "I guess we'll only be moving this one time then."  I smacked his arm and he snickered.  "Hey watch it, this takes precision and concentration."

I snuggled in next to him to watch.  I'd never really seen him put one on before and for some reason it was fascinating.  "I've heard they can shoot off if you stretch them while you're putting them on.  Have you ever had that happen?"

"I've shot a girl in the head with one."

"Seriously?!  Oh I'd pay to see that."  He gave me a sly look and I scooted away.  "But please don't shoot me, I might have a seizure or something."

He finished his task and rolled over on top of me, laughing, immediately pressing his lips to mine and kissing me long and deep and slow.  There was a lot of intrusive tongue and moaning and lip sucking, till I spread my legs and relaxed under him, happy and ready as he crouched between my knees and scooted me down against him.

"Open wide, baby," he murmured against my breast as he slipped in, pulling my legs up over his thighs with a hard thrust that put him so deep into me I had no choice but to let it knock the breath out of me. There was no slow lovemaking to match that kiss - his mood had shifted to a raunchy urgency that I could barely keep up with and I held onto his shoulders, trying not to let it overwhelm me as he pounded recklessly into me.  His roughness was shockingly arousing and I pulled myself up against him to dig my nails into his back, loving the erotically pained look on his face as I scratched him from his spine down his ribcage and back to his hips, sliding my hands down over his butt to leave some scratches there as well.  It seemed to intensify his already barely controlled desire and he thrust harder, faster, slamming me into the pillows as he held his weight off me with his hands on either side of my head.  The added friction of the condom dragging up and down against my clit brought me to climax quickly, and I let go of him to hold onto the headboard rails, writhing and gasping while he watched with hungry eyes as I came under him.

The convulsions of my muscles seizing up on him triggered his orgasm; he groaned heavily and released, thrusting hard one final time before his body shuddered and he collapsed onto me.  I watched him the way he had watched me, enjoying the way his face tensed and then relaxed in time with his body, the softly blissful look of relief that came after he'd emptied, that little grimace of discomfort when he pulled out of me.  I rubbed his shoulders until he rolled over off me, then he tugged me over onto his chest and slapped me on the ass.

"Damn fine fuck there, baby.  Thank you." 

 

Late that night we were up, wide awake because we'd napped during the rain, listening to music and slowdancing in the livingroom.  Cara was with us for a while, then retreated to her room to do some course work on her computer before bed, leaving us to our own devices until we got tired enough to retire ourselves.  Tom spun me and then pulled me up tight to him, swaying with me, grinning an amused little grin down at me until I couldn't help but laugh and ask what his problem was.  He cocked an eyebrow and bent down to whisper in my ear as he rocked me to the music.

"When you come, your face is so damn cute."

I felt my ears go a little bit hot and giggled as he nuzzled his nose against my cheek.  "You're like a kitten licking its fur, you know how they kinda get their tongue stuck on their lip?  And their eyes are closed real tight and they just look like they're all blissed out and you can't tell if someone's stepped on their tail or they're getting their belly rubbed."

"Oh my god, are you serious?  How do you keep from laughing?"

"I'm usually too preoccupied."

He bent me backward and kissed the middle of my throat, then stood me back up and flopped down on the sofa, pulling me along with him.  I stretched out on my back and rested my head on his thigh, reaching up to touch his chin with a fingertip.

"Yours is like - "  I couldn't come up with the right words, so I mimicked the face he made most often.  "You get this mysterious little smile and then your face just sort of crinkles up and your mouth does this thing - "  I jutted my bottom jaw out and he laughed.  "It's like your jaw comes unhinged as soon as it starts.  And then you look like you're getting a really good neck rub while the sun is in your eyes."

Cara stopped in the doorway and looked in at us.

"Are you two describing each other's o-faces?"

We stared at her and she stared back at us, then shook her head and held her hands up.  "Never mind, I just realized I asked a question I _really_ don't want answered.  Go back to...whatever."

 

Early the next morning Tom woke me up and tossed some clothes on the bed, telling me to get up and get dressed because we had an appointment at the courthouse. _Oh shit, time to meet with the attorney,_ I groaned inside my head.  I wasn't looking forward to this, but I knew it had to be done.  I also knew he wasn't going to be indulgent with my slowness and I dressed quickly, putting on what he'd put out for me and waiting for him to come back.  My brain worked on half speed in the mornings now and sometimes he had to boss me around for a while before I could actually get moving on my own.

I managed to get fully dressed, brush my teeth and hair, and find my purse quickly enough to merit an approving smile from him, but I could tell he was a little bit nervous about this meeting so I did my best to not require too much direction.  When he buckled my seatbelt he kissed me on the nose and sat there for a minute with his forehead pressed against mine, his eyes closed, not saying anything.  

I felt bad for him;  I knew the whole thing had been hard on him and he blamed himself for what happened to me, both my illness and my being attacked by Laing.  He felt they were both his fault and nothing could convince him that if he hadn't left me alone that night I wouldn't have gotten sick, or that if he hadn't let me return to work Laing would never have tried to have his way with me.  I saw it every time he looked at me, a painful regret behind his eyes, a harsh accounting with himself for having screwed up.  All I could do was let him know I still loved him and let him work it out on his own.

He drove us to the courthouse in silence, no radio, no talking, and when we arrived he came around to unbuckle me and help me out of the car without meeting my gaze.  He took me by the hand and we crossed the street, then headed for the big gothic building at a trot.

He pulled me along behind him, his hand gripping mine tightly, walking far too fast for me to keep up comfortably.  By the time we reached the top of the steps I was whining for him to slow down and I stumbled on the very last step, grabbing the back of his pants to keep from falling.  I fussed at him to stop so I could fix my shoe and he gave me an impatient look, but stopped long enough for me to slip the back of my shoe back onto my heel.  I gave him a nasty look and he frowned at me.

"Come on," he said, holding his hand out to me again.  I took it and he tugged me along, a little slower this time but not by much.  His legs were just so freakishly long that I was taking three steps to his one, trotting along like a little kid behind him.

"Where are we going?  Isn't Mark's office upstairs?"  He'd led me past the elevators and I wasn't looking forward to having him drag me up three flights of stairs, but I wasn't about to pull back on him.  He seemed determined to get where we were going quickly.

"We aren't going to see Mark yet."

"Then where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Down a long corridor we finally stopped and I bent over to fix my shoe again.  "Sit here for a minute, I'll be right back."  I obeyed and flopped down on a bench as Tom disappeared behind a frosted glass door, catching my breath and nearly crying when I saw my shoe had come untied.  I still had a hard time remembering how to tie them.

I was fiddling with it and growing increasingly frustrated when Tom came back, kneeling down in front of me and lifting my foot onto his knee to tie it for me.  "Come on," he said, holding his hand out to me again.  I took it and let him lead me into the office he'd just come out of, where we were immediately greeted by a woman in a blue suit who told us to have a seat and the JP would be right with us.

"JP?" I asked in a whisper, tugging on Tom's arm.  He slipped it around me and leaned close to kiss my ear.

"You said yes, remember?"

 

A half an hour later we walked out with a folded up piece of paper in Tom's back pocket, married.

 

"Oh my god!" Cara squealed when she unfolded the paper and read it.  "You got married?!"

Tom was changing his shirt, getting ready to go back to the pub.  I twisted my new ring on my finger, tapping it against the one on my thumb, looking, I'm sure, every bit as surprised as Cara did.  "Yeah.  He took me to the JP's office in the courthouse."

"How amazingly - _not romantic."_  She shot a frown at Tom, who didn't seem to care.  "Well, this is still awesome.  I always hoped you'd get _really_ married.  Bonded and mated is one thing, being able to sign medical papers is something else entirely."

I nodded.  I knew that was exactly why Tom had wanted to do this.  She was right, it wasn't romantic, but it didn't need to be.  We'd been married in our own way for a long time, this was just a formality.

"I'll make it up to her, Cara," Tom said quietly, pulling on his jacket and coming over to kiss me goodbye.  I slipped my arms around his neck and he let me hug him for a long time, holding me tightly, whispering _"I love you babe"_ into my ear before we finally let go.  "Oh," he said on his way out, turning back to me with a worried look on his face.  "It's second Wednesday girly, I nearly forgot.  Do you want to go with me? I'll be heading out around two."

I furrowed my brow, trying to remember what second Wednesday meant.  It came to me quickly - _Emma.  Stonebrooke._

"Of course I want to go.  I'll be ready, will you come get me?"

He smiled and nodded as he left.

 

Tom stayed in the hallway outside the day room like he always did, leaning against the wall while I went in alone.  Emma was sitting in the same chair I always found her in, facing the open window as always. Nothing about her ever seemed to change from visit to visit.  Tom peeked in through the main door and sighed heavily, the same sad sound he always made - something else that never changed.  I squeezed his hand and went inside.

Before I even got near her, she said in a sweetly singsong voice without turning around, "Hello Tommy's wife."

I stopped, looking around for any reflective surfaces she might have seen me in.  There was nothing.

"Hello Emma.  How are you?"

She turned and looked at me, her eyes lighting up.  "You're like me now."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"You left...and a part of you didn't come back."  She eyed me curiously.  "But there's a new part to you now.  It wasn't there before."  She tapped her nose.  "Tommy could always smell things nobody else could. We used to call him a bloodhound."

I wasn't sure what she meant by any of this, but it felt weird and disconcerting to hear her say it.  She looked down and smiled, then turned back to the window again.  "He didn't tie your shoe."

I glanced down;  she was right, my shoelace was flopped onto the floor next to my foot.  I'd forgotten to have Tom tie it for me before we came in.  And then it dawned on me that she seemed to know I had someone doing these things for me.

"Who is _he?"_ I asked.

"That man in the hall.  He takes care of the parts that didn't come back."

I smiled.  "Yes, he does.  He's a good man."

"Of course he is," she said in that happy, sing-songy voice again.  "He's my brother's ghost."

I couldn't help but laugh a little as I went to the window to see what had her attention.  There were children playing in the courtyard, running around kicking a ball with some nurses and interns and other adults, and off to the side was a tall man playing with a boy who looked to be about ten.  Something about the man seemed familiar and I suddenly remembered I had my glasses in my purse;  I took them out and put them on, squinting at the pair who were now running circles around each other, chasing a blue ball that they kicked back and forth between them.

I covered my mouth with my hand to keep Emma from hearing my shocked gasp.

"Come on Emma, time for your walk."

I turned to see a nurse holding her hand out, urging Emma to come along with her.  I smiled at the woman and said goodbye, then waited until they had gone out through the side door before I went to the hall and grabbed Tom. 

"Tom, Laing is here."

"What?"

"He's here, Laing is here."

"What makes you think that?"

"I saw him!  Look - "  I dragged him by the hand through the now mostly empty day room to the windows, pointing down into the courtyard where the man and boy were still playing.  Tom stared for a moment, not saying anything.  After a long while, he took out his phone and held it up to the open window, snapping a picture of the pair.

"Wait here," he ordered, heading for the floor coordinator's office.  I did as he said, sitting down on the sofa to wait for him, not wanting to look out the window any more.   _Why would Laing be here playing with a child?_ And then I remembered...he had a younger brother that he said was mentally disabled.  I already knew about him from a conversation we'd had in London, and I'd heard him say the rest to Tom in the hospital.  And when he'd handed me Tom's file and spoken of Emma, he had specifically said Stonebrooke was the best care facility in the state.  It made sense now, how he knew that.

 

Tom returned a few minutes later and held his hand out to me, pulling me up off the sofa and leading me out.  When we got to the car, he sat for a moment before starting the engine, staring out at nothing for a while before he finally turned to me.

"Anja, that boy's not his brother.  That boy is his son."

"Are you sure of that?"

"I know what I was looking at.  But to be sure, I asked the coordinator.  They come every Wednesday for the group physical therapy for children - Robert Laing and his son Bobby Jr."

I thought about it for a minute, a little confused.  "Couldn't his brother be named that?  I'm sure Laing's dad has the same name as him, they just name their kids the same thing over and over, don't they?"

He looked at me, shaking his head slowly.  "I asked.  It's his son."

 

"I remember that he was always out of the office on Wednesday afternoons.  Always.  Nobody ever knew why, we were just told never to schedule anything for him during that time."

We were at the pub, in the back room eating some dinner in the quiet, both of us trying to work out what we'd seen at Stonebrooke.  Tom was obviously figuring out how to use it, but I couldn't imagine any way that it could help his case.  He finally looked up at me and the expression on his face was deeply troubled.  I felt my stomach drop...nothing that made him look at me like that could be good.

"Can you forgive me if I don't go after him?" he finally asked, his voice as pleading as the look in his eyes.  "If I just get myself out of this and make it to where he leaves us alone?"

I put my glass down and moved over to his chair, kneeling down in front of him.  "Of course!  I don't need you to go after him, Tom.  Just don't go to jail, that's all I want."  I touched his face, my hands on both sides of his cheeks while he looked at me.  His eyes were searching and after a moment he nodded.

"I won't be going to jail, I can almost assure you of that."  He touched his shirt pocket where his phone was tucked.  "If what I'm thinking is true, he's going to forget we even exist."  I nodded, not understanding what he was getting at, more to encourage him to keep talking.  "I just...I can't bring myself to do anything that would take him out of that boy's life.  I could wreck him but...I know what it's like to have someone like that that you have to care for.  They become your world, no matter what else you have to deal with they're always the center and - "

"Shhhh, baby."  I stroked his face, calming him.  "I understand.  You don't have to explain anything to me.  I don't want any of that to happen either, it was obvious he loves that boy.  Just shut him up, get him off your ass, and we'll walk away."

He looked at me, turquoise eyes wet with tears that I knew were more anger than sadness.  "But what he did to you.  I'll have to let that go unpunished.  How can I live with that?"

"Unpunished?  You're joking, right?  I watched you put him on the floor with one punch and then I can only guess what happened after I left.  How is that even remotely unpunished?"

He shook his head, a sardonic smile on his lips.  "A punch in the face and a few more in the ribs to pay for emotional manipulation, devious coercion, sexual assault, and attempted rape?  Anja he had his hands between your legs, the man  _touched_  you - "

"Shhhhh, I know, I know."  He was getting worked up and I tried to remember how to best calm him...I sat down on his knee and ran my fingers through his hair, hoping that would work.  His breathing immediately slowed and I kissed his brow.  "He tried, yes, but he didn't succeed, did he.  Everyone seems to forget, when they're tossing terms like  _mentally diminished_  around in reference to me, that I actually did manage to talk my way out of that."

He looked surprised for a moment, like I had reminded him of something important he'd forgotten.  A slow smile came across his face.

"Yes, you did.  My smart girl."

He pulled me up against him and wrapped his arms around me, hugging me so tight I couldn't breathe for a second.  I squirmed a little till he loosened his embrace, then settled in to listen to his heartbeat against my ear.  It was slowing to a soothing pace and I sighed happily, reaching around behind me to pull his hand where I could hold it.  The plain silver wedding band on his finger felt smooth and warm and I played with it, twisting it and tugging his hand up to my face to kiss it.

"Where did these come from, anyway?"  I tapped mine against his, noticing they made the same sound our thumb rings made when tapped together...same pitch, almost exactly.  "Are they the same silver as these?"

He nodded, smiling, but didn't answer.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

He shifted me so that I was up on his lap and moved my leg to his other side so that I was straddling him, laying against his chest with my stomach pressed to his and my head on his shoulder.  It was so comfortable I just wanted to go to sleep on him.  "So what are you going to do?"

He sighed, pressing his lips to the top of my head and inhaling deeply.  "I'm going to let him present his assault charges, then I'm going to present counter charges of his assault on you.  I can do it in your behalf now because we're married."

"Ah, so that's why the big rush, dragging me off to the JP.  So romantic."  I let the sarcasm drip so he'd know I was only teasing.  He gave my bottom a little smack to let me know it wasn't lost on him.

"He'll have prepared plenty of counter defenses to shoot down whatever I present.  The man's a shark, he knows every loophole, every way to cheat and lie, he'll have everything I say overturned before I can even finish saying it."

"So how are you going to avoid going to jail?"

"I made a couple of phonecalls while you were in the kitchen.  I got the boy's mother's name from the coordinator - "

"How did you manage that?  They don't just hand out private information do they?"  He went quiet and I raised my head off his shoulder to look up at him.  He was smirking a little.  "Oh my god, you flirted with her, didn't you?"

He looked a little sheepish when he grinned at me.  "Yeah...sorry.  But anyway I called Kady and had her look up - "

"You called Kady?  In London?"

"Will you stop interrupting me?  I called Kady and she looked up the name of Laing's father's wife, or ex wife now, it seems she up and left the country - and him - about twelve years ago, right after giving birth to a son who was later diagnosed as mentally disabled."  He paused for a moment.  "It's the same woman."

"The same woman as who?"

"As the mother they have on file for the boy we saw today."

My brain wasn't putting it together like I knew it should be and I just looked at him, embarrassed that it wasn't falling into place for me.  He tapped me on the forehead and grinned, speaking slowly.  "Laing's hot young stepmom is the mother of the little boy we saw."

I was starting to get it, a bit at a time.  "And Laing...is the father?"

He nodded, his grin widening.

"So...Laing...and his stepmom...oh holy shit, are you kidding me?"

"Nope.  I almost wish I was."

I slapped my hands over my mouth, not sure if I should be disgusted or amazed at the man's audacity.  "So the little brother he told me about is actually his son - by his dad's young wife?"

"Yep."

"Oh wow.  How are you going to use that?"

He sighed.  "This is the awful part.  We saw today that he obviously loves that boy.  He's not going to want to risk losing him.  I'm going to do a little bit of insinuating...just plant the suspicion that maybe I'd go that far, expose the truth, push hard enough on the rape charge to really get this thing looked at.  The combination of the charges plus the scandal of him having fucked his own stepmother and had a child with her - it might be enough to make him cut his losses and walk away.  And he'll know that if I fight hard enough, he risks being branded a sexual predator and he will never be allowed near that child again."  He stroked my hair and I knew he was softening the blow for what he was going to say next.  "The fact that he committed sexual assault on someone - _slightly disabled_ \- will guarantee he loses his parental rights, since the boy is disabled as well."

I looked down at my hands, not wanting to meet his eyes.  I knew he didn't see me that way, that it was just something written in my medical file, a harsh term to name a side effect that would probably wear off eventually.  Something I'd get over in time, just like a cold.  And if I didn't, it wasn't debilitating - I just functioned a little slower than I was used to.  I'd already gotten so much better in just a few weeks, I had no doubt the rest would be coming back as well.  But hearing Tom say it was just...painful and embarrassing.  I took a deep breath and raised my head, nodding my approval.

"Do it.  Whatever it takes to get him off you."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	36. Chapter 36

 

 

"Are you sure you're okay to do this?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you want to?  Because you don't have to go in if you - "

"I want to, Tom."

"You'll be sitting across from him you know."

"I know.  Don't try to change my mind, I'm going in there."

He smiled at me proudly.  "He doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you, you know that don't you?"

"Well, it's not like we can stop him."

"You want to bet?"  I looked at him with a little bit of surprise, wondering what he was insinuating, and he leaned over close to my face and whispered, _"Just say the word."_

 

We followed the receptionist into the big meeting room, the room where I'd presided over so many corporate discussions under the supervision of the man who was now sitting at the table, watching us enter.

"Mr Heyworth and his wife are here," the receptionist announced, stepping aside to let us pass.  I saw Laing's eyebrow shoot up at _wife._ We went to the table and sat down and I pretended not to notice that he stood up politely until I was seated.  Smug bastard was a perfect gentleman, first and foremost, no matter the circumstances.

"We all know why we're here," the suited man seated next to him began;  I recognized him as one of the mediators we frequently called in on the bigger cases.  Laing had brought in the pros.  "So what say we just get down to business?"

Tom nodded, reaching into his jeans pocket and pulling out his cellphone.  I held my breath...I knew what he planned to do, but I hadn't for one second imagined he was going to go about it this way.  He scrolled for a moment and then set the phone down on the table, sliding it across to Laing and sitting back with the most perfectly expressionless face I'd ever seen in my life.

Laing stared him in the eyes for a long moment before finally glancing down at the phone.  I saw something in his face, just the slightest bit of a flinch, so barely perceptible that I think anyone who didn't know him wouldn't have even seen it.  But I knew him, and for the briefest of moments, there was fear in his eyes.

He turned to the mediator and said, "We're done here."

The man was shocked and protested, grabbing him by the arm and looking from him to us, not sure what was happening.  "What?  Robert, we - "

Laing's eyes were like ice as he stood up and gathered his things.  The mediator was still protesting, but was silenced immediately by the tone of his voice when he repeated himself.  "I said we're _done."_

 

I followed Tom out, trotting to keep up with his long legs;  I knew he was staying ahead of me to keep Laing from being able to turn around and speak to me as we traversed the long hallway, and when I caught up to him he reached back and took my hand but kept me behind him.  I had his phone in my hand and looked at it to see what he'd shown him - it was the picture he'd snapped through the window at Stonebrooke, of the two of them in the courtyard, him and his brother/son.  The redirection ploy had worked.  I couldn't stop myself smiling as I handed him the phone and we left the building, walking quickly lest our luck change.

 

When we got home I dropped to my knees in front of Tom the moment we stepped inside and busied myself unzipping his pants.  He finished pulling his jacket off and tossed it toward the door, not the slightest bit fazed by my sudden lustiness as he reached down to push his fingers into my hair, pulling my head closer as I tugged his cock out and started sucking it.  With a groan, he dropped his head back and murmured huskily, "God I hope Cara's not here."

I shook my head, popping him out of my mouth long enough to say, "No, she's doing that day intern thing at the zoo this week.  She'll be gone till five," before taking him back into my mouth again and sliding my tongue over the rapidly swelling head of his cock.  I was so turned on by what he'd done, by the smooth, cool way he'd handled Laing, that I didn't care about the cold stone tile hurting my knees or the fact that we hadn't even made it five feet into the house before I'd gone down on him like a horny teenager.  I just wanted to give him pleasure, fast and dirty, and to taste him at a primal level to satisfy what he'd aroused in me.

 _"Oh fuck girly,"_   he moaned, his fingers tightening in my hair.  He stiffened quickly, his cock swelling in my mouth till I had to ease it out a bit and stretch my jaw to be able to take him back in.  He watched as I did, looking down at me through half closed eyes, a little smile on his open lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his breathing quickened in tandem with his arousal.  I looked up at him and his smile widened.  "You are so fucking gorgeous, baby."

I sucked harder at him, taking him into my mouth as far as I could, but he was so big it was difficult;  I'd never really been able to give him a great blow job, but he'd never actually asked for one.  He hadn't asked for this one either, but it was the first thing that had popped into my head when we got into the house, and he certainly didn't seem to mind.  From the blissful look on his face, it appeared he was enjoying it as much as I'd hoped he would.

I wanted to say something dirty to him, but the combination of his cock in my mouth and my intense need to please him conspired together to keep me from being able to think of anything truly filthy.  "Would you come on my tits?" I finally asked after I'd slipped him out again, licking along his shaft and then moving back to the tip to tease the swollen head.  I knew I didn't want him to come in my mouth and I wasn't sure what else to do, other than something I'd seen in a dirty movie we'd watched together once.  It felt satisfying to say it, nasty in a junior high sort of way.

"You have to ask?"  His fingers rubbed gently on my scalp and I realized he hadn't once tried to move my head or thrust into my mouth - he was letting me do whatever I was comfortable with, without asking for anything more.  His voice was strained with desire but still quiet and gentle when he spoke.  "Suck me a bit more baby, and then pull your mouth off when I tug your hair."

I nodded and obeyed, taking him back into my mouth and sliding my lips up and down on his shaft, rubbing my tongue over the sensitive tip, unbuttoning my shirt quickly with one hand and pulling it open when I felt him start to tense.  I trusted him not to wait too long and kept going until he gave my hair a tug, then I pulled him out of my mouth, giving him one last hard suck, and sat back on my heels.

He grabbed his cock and gave it a quick stroke, groaning deep and heavy as he came, spurting his warm seed across the tops of my breasts.  There was a lot of it and it dribbled down onto my bra, tickling as it slid slowly down my skin.  His eyes opened sleepily and he watched as I tipped my chin down and darted my tongue out, licking a tiny bit off my chest.

His grin spread quickly and his eyes lit up with a renewed desire.  "That was hot, baby," he said quietly, his breathing beginning to slow to a normal pace.  "Shall we continue this in the bedroom?  If Cara comes in she's going to smack you in the ass with the door."

"Whatever you say, big daddy.  I'm so turned on by you owning Laing that I'll do pretty much anything you want right now."

His eyebrow went up at _big daddy_ and he laughed a little.  His come was still trickling down my chest and it felt funky, so I reached over without thinking and picked up a scarf from the little pile by the door, using it to mop the mess off myself.  He closed his eyes tight with an expression of _I can't believe you did that_ and started putting himself back together;  he barely had his pants zipped when his phone beeped.  I sat on my knees in front of him as he took it out and checked the text, the smile on his face quickly disappearing.

My heart sank.  "Something tells me that's not Ewan asking for help with the lunch crowd."

"No."  He stared at it for a moment longer, then turned the screen to me.

_RWL:  Terms?_

 

We were both silent for a long time.

"What does he mean?"

Tom shook his head, staring at the text.  He looked like he might be about to smile, but I couldn't tell...I was confused and he wasn't talking.  But he suddenly looked down at me and his face shifted to mild alarm, tucking the phone back into his pocket as he knelt down in front of me and took the scarf from my hand.

"You're a mess baby," he said in that good-natured chastising way that was so uniquely him.  "You look like a pretty little porn star right after the money shot."  I watched his face as he finished wiping his come from my breasts, and when his eyes finally came back up to mine I gave him a questioning look.  The little smile that had threatened to break out a few moments ago finally made its appearance.  "I think we won, girly."

"We did?"

"Yep.  He's asking for our terms, that's generally what you do when you're surrendering.  I think he wants to buy our silence."

I felt my eyes go wide as I stared at him.  "He thinks we're blackmailing him?"

"I don't care what he thinks.  It doesn't matter - what does matter is I'm not going to Donovan for two years."  His eyes were bright and he seemed genuinely happy.  "So, we demand he drop the charges, and he leaves us alone.  Never comes near you again.  Sound about right?"

I nodded, feeling suddenly excited with maybe a tinge of regret.  "So I guess I'm never going back to work there again...?"

He stroked my hair, a sympathetic look coming into his eyes.  "No baby.  You can help me at the pub.  Be my bar wench."

I couldn't even begin to comprehend how happy those words made me.

"And child support for Ewan's brother," I said excitedly, grabbing his arm as he stood and pulled me up with him.  " _And_ back pay for all the years he skipped."

Tom laughed.  "Now you're talking."

 

We lay in bed staring at the ceiling, a loaded condom laying across my stomach.  He was feeling frisky and refused to let me get out of bed to toss it in the trash...his short conversation with Laing via text had put him in a cautiously happy mood and he'd given me a good and proper payback for the blowjob I'd bestowed on him earlier.  And now as we lay together in the twisted sheets, neither of us willing to move much more than just to stroke each other's bellies, the truth of our situation suddenly became clear.  If Laing was a man of his word - and from what I knew of him, he was - then it was over.  He would leave us alone, drop the charges against Tom, stay away from me, and make things as right as he could with Ewan's family.  Tom and I would have to drop our charges against him as well, but I was good with that.   _No harm no foul_   kept running through my head and even though I knew I'd come very close to disaster, I had still walked away relatively unscathed.  I could live with that.

"Would you like a wedding, babe?"

The question took me by surprise and I sucked my breath in hard, accidentally biting my tongue when I started to speak.  I yelped a little and slapped my hand over my mouth in pain.  Tom raised his head and gave me a disbelieving look.  "Did you just bite your tongue?"

I nodded, starting to laugh.  He pulled my hand away and slipped his finger into my mouth, rubbing his fingertip on my tongue, starting to laugh a little himself.  "So would you?  I think you deserve one, if you want it.  I know being dragged to the Justice of the Peace isn't exactly the ideal dream wedding."  He nudged my mouth open with his thumb and looked at my tongue.  "You're okay.  And I appreciate you being so good about everything.  I honestly don't know any other women who would have done that without complaint."

I tentatively touched my tongue and looked at my finger, expecting to see blood, but there wasn't any.  "It's okay, I know why we had to do it that way.  I didn't mind.  Besides - "  I held my hand up, rubbing the silver band on my thumb.  "This is what matters to me."

He propped himself up on his elbow next to me and stared into my face for a long while, tracing a fingertip around my lips.  "I know you didn't mind.  You're a good girl, Anja."  He leaned over and kissed me lightly.  "Why don't you and Cara plan something out and tell me whatever you need done.  We'll do it right and have a big party after.  Sound good?"

I couldn't stop myself smiling up at him - I hadn't even considered the possibility of a second wedding, an actual ceremony with friends and a reception afterward...but I wasn't about to turn it down.  I nodded, tugging on his hair to get him to lean close enough for me to kiss him.

 

"What are you going to wear, dad?"

I handed Cara her iPad back with a websearch for dresses pulled up.  "He's going to take care of his own stuff, him and the guys.  All we have to do is our dresses and the flowers."

"Wait, you told him he could dress himself?"

"Yeah - should I not have done that?"

She looked over at Tom, who was ignoring us, eating a bowl of cereal in front of the TV.  "No, you shouldn't have, have you looked at him?  He dresses like the Fonz.  You can't let him pick his own outfit."

Without moving his eyes from the television, Tom raised one hand and stuck his thumb up.

"It'll be fine," I reassured her.  "I don't want this to be fancy anyway...we're not really a fancy couple."

"No, you're an awesomely cool couple.  And you're completely right, it should be something that suits you.  But dad, you _are_ going to get a suit, right?" 

Tom nodded, waving his spoon for a moment before resuming eating.  His phone rang and he took it out of his pocket, balancing his cereal bowl on one hand.  "It's for you girly."

"Me?  On _your_ phone?"  I got up and took it from his hand, a little confused.  "Hello?"

_"Congratulations you lucky bitch!"_

"Uh...thank you?  Who is this?"

"You forgot me already?  It's me, Kady!  Former best friend, remember?  I'm at Heathrow waiting on my plane to board."

Kady?  Why would Kady be calling me?  We hadn't parted on the best of terms.  "Oh!  Sorry, I don't hear too well on the phone.  Where are you off to?"

"Your wedding, silly.  I'm coming home to watch you marry that big ugly guy you always hated so much."  My mouth dropped open but she raced on like she always did, not giving me a chance to say anything. "You got a dress for me?  Get it sized right, remember I'm taller and skinnier than you."

"What?  Wait - you're coming back?  How'd you even know?"

"Tom called me a few hours ago, wired me a plane ticket and told me to get my ass home because he's got two best men and you're short one bridesmaid."

I covered my mouth, not sure if I was going to laugh or cry.  Tom had gone back to eating his cereal and wasn't paying any attention to me, but Cara was staring with a questioning look.

"Well okay then," I finally said once I'd gathered myself.  "Size six dress, size nine shoe, and you need those chest tape things that make cleavage because you have no boobs.  See, I remember just fine."

There was an indignant exaggerated gasp from the other end of the line and Tom snorted.

"Yeah okay, it's a fair assessment.  Anyway, plane's boarding so I gotta go.  Love ya kiddo, I'll be there soon!"

"Be careful - "

She hung up before I could say anything else and I handed the phone back to Tom, slapping it into his outstretched hand.  "Were you going to tell me about that?"

"Nope."

"Uh huh."  I tugged his hair as I walked past the back of the sofa and he reached up to poke me in the ribs.  Cara was watching, waiting for me to fill her in, getting impatient for details.

"So is anyone going to tell me what just happened?"

"I think someone slapped a bandaid and some bactine on an old wound."  I glanced over at Tom, but he was too busy pretending to be absorbed in Mythbusters to respond.

 

"Oh my god, you should see dad.  He looks hot."

"Good grief Cara, he's your father, don't call him hot.  It's creepy."

Kady interrupted, looking up from where she was adjusting the hem of my long dress.  "The girl has eyes, the boy is hot.  You're the only one here who's never thought so."

I shrugged, holding onto my bodice to keep it from shifting when I moved my shoulders.  "I think he's hot.  Sort of.  But that's not what did it for me."

"Do we want to know?"

"Shh, listen - "

The music was starting...an instrumental that I recognized, though it took me a second.   _All of Me,_ our unofficial song.  Tom had given Ewan the job of arranging the music and I'd assumed I would be walking down the aisle to AC/DC, especially since the details had been so secretively kept from me, but so far so good.  The tune was so pretty I almost started crying, but Kady was leaning around the wall looking out into the great hall and giving a narrative of what she was seeing.

"This place is gorgeous.  I can't believe he got the damn castle.  I've never even been in here before - someone must have owed him a _big_ favor."  She leaned out again and made a face, fanning herself.  "Cara's not kidding, your man looks fucking hot.  He's like a damn vampire prince."

I started laughing just as the usher waved to us, cuing our entrance.  Cara leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek and straightened my bodice where I'd been tugging at it.  "I love you, mom.  You look beautiful - dad's gonna have a stroke when he sees you."

 

Kady went out first, then Cara;  I peeked around the wall and saw Tom standing at the front with his back to me, so tall and handsome, his long black hair combed straight and sleek down the middle of his back. Chris and Ewan were beside him in black suits similar to his - although Ewan wasn't wearing any pants.  He'd threatened from the start to wear a kilt, thinking I would protest and he'd get his jollies off irritating me, but I'd told him to go right ahead.  "Don't tell him that," Tom had warned me, "He'll do it."  But he'd been handed the responsibility of finding the venue and had gone above and beyond by getting us use of the Hampstead Castle, so I wouldn't have cared much if he was standing there drunk and naked with a bottle of O'Douls.  For all I knew he'd probably tried to do just that and been vetoed by Tom.

Chris was peeking back over his shoulder and when I stepped out, he elbowed Tom in the side and whispered something to him.  Tom turned around and looked back at me, breaking into a wide grin when he saw me.  They all turned around and the guests followed suit, shifting around in their seats to watch as I made my way down the long aisle.

 

Tom was smiling when he said I do, and I think I must have been too because I remember my cheeks hurting by the time it was over.  He kissed me, nothing dramatic, just a passionate, heartfelt kiss that didn't stop till Chris and Ewan started clearing their throats and Cara whispered, "Dad, come on!"

We were racking up quite a pile of promises to each other.

Mated for life, an oath to be together forever.

Bonded, an acknowledgement that we belonged to each other.

Legally married by the Justice of the Peace, bound together by law.

...and now officially, publicly, and very very romantically making a public declaration of our love in front of friends, family, witnesses, and whoever else had wandered in to watch.

It had been real from the start, from the first time he'd kissed me, hell _long_ before that, the first time he touched me, the first time he put his nose next to my neck and sniffed me - I'd been his from that moment, although I didn't know it at the time.  But I think he did, and with a little bit of patience and perseverance, he'd convinced me of it as well.  It had always been real, despite the aura of twisted dark fairytale that seemed to swirl around us.

But it was never more real than it was now, as our lips slowly parted and I looked up into his smiling eyes.  Now we had vows, promises that everyone else had heard, not just us.  And he had memorized his, not even needing the officiant to recite them for him to repeat.  He'd held my hands and looked straight into my face and made those promises without hesitation, with a big smile on his face.

This was the realest thing I'd ever felt.

 

We left quickly after the ceremony and my face felt like it was going to break when I saw the outside of the pub as we crossed the street.  Someone had decorated it with balloons and streamers, and the big sign out front said:

TOM & ANJA'S WEDDING PARTY, COME GET DRUNK WITH US.

"Well that's subtle and classy," I said as Tom opened the door and held it for me.

"That's us all over," he grinned back, reaching down to pick up the back of my dress.  I looked down to see what he was doing and he suddenly hefted me up over his shoulder.

"Tom!"

He slapped my bottom and growled at me. "Be still woman, you're my bar wench now, remember?"  He hauled me in and sat me down on my feet next to the bar, winking at me while the people who were already inside catcalled us and clapped.  "Now get back there and serve your guests, they only showed up for two things - the beer and you in that dress.  Give 'em both."  His eyes raked over me and there was an approving little tilt to his lips.  "By the way - I _really like_ that dress."  His hand was on my bottom as he gave me a little push toward the taps.  "I hope it's not hard to get you out of in a state of inebriation, because you're going to get a drunk fuck later that you'll never forget."

"Good thing, because you'll forget it the second you pass out.  One of us has to be able to fill out the police report."

"That'll be you."

 

About a half hour into the party Cara asked if I'd seen Tom in a while.  The place was so packed that we couldn't see through the crowd, so she climbed up on the bar to get a better look.

"Get down right now!" I fussed, hoping the police didn't show up for the noise and bust us for having an underage girl serving alcohol. "You're not even supposed to be in here, do not bring attention to yourself."

She rolled her eyes at me.  "Nobody's going to complain, this is a wedding party."  She climbed down and shrugged.  "I don't see him or any of the guys.  They probably snuck out back."

"That figures."  I waved Kady over and handed her my towel.  "Keep an eye please, I need to find Tom."  

As I made my way toward the back, a hand on my arm stopped me and I spun around, momentarily panicked - for some reason my first thought was that Laing had crashed the party to harass me with some deviously insincere wish of wellbeing, just to wreck my day, but when I looked up in alarm I only saw Eric's smiling face.  "Congratulations, Anja," he said, leaning in for a quick kiss before I could back away.  "You look gorgeous."  He motioned around the room with his empty glass.  "Great party, this is gonna be one for the record books."

"Yeah, or the police blotter," I said back with a smirk, tugging my arm out of his grip.  "Enjoy yourself, I need to go find my husband."

He grimaced a little when I said _husband,_ but nodded and let go of me.  The last thing I needed was a drunken Eric sniffing around me today - or worse, around Cara.  Tom had just narrowly avoided one assault charge, I knew the next one would stick.  I gave a quick glance back over my shoulder as I opened the office door, but he'd already wandered unsteadily back into the crowd.

 

I stepped into the alley and found Tom, Ewan, and Chris all standing against the wall, passing a joint around.  Tom was taking a long draw on it and grinned at me when my mouth dropped open, giving me a wicked wink as he handed it back to Ewan.

"All the men disappear from my wedding party and I find them in the alley getting stoned.  Typical."  Chris held his beer bottle up in salute and nodded in agreement.

"Yes ma'am.  We're reprobates of the highest order.  We realize that."

Ewan had put on a fake serious face and was nodding solemnly now as well.  "It's our upbringing, you see.  None of us had the favor of strong parental units, with the exception of Chris here, whose mum was a ballbuster - pardon my saying so - "  He looked at Chris, his face twisting in comical confusion.  "Come to think of it we don't really know _what_ his excuse is.  But Master Tommy here and myself plead no contest to being fuckups of extraordinary capacity."

Tom shook his head.  "Speak for yourself dipshit, only one of us in this alley besides Anja hasn't done jailtime."

"You came damn close!"

"Who did eight months at Donovan on a grand theft charge - in solitary for three of it because he couldn't quit mooning the guards?"

Ewan hooted and started to heft up the bottom of his kilt.  "That would be _me_ 'cuz this arse has to be seen to be believed - "

"That arse got you gangbanged in the showers."

"Yes and thank Christ Almighty because that was the highlight of my young life thus far!"

"Oh my god _SHUT UP you guys!"_  a voice from behind me suddenly yelled.  "And put your skirt down you freak, that's just not normal.  There's ladies present."  Cara stepped out from behind me with a chastising frown and settled against the wall next to Tom, reaching across him to take the joint from Ewan's hand.  Tom watched her till she took a puff from it, his face etched with a frown that matched hers.

"Really, Cara?"

She rolled her eyes at him and handed it back.  "Oh come on dad, seriously, how many times are my parents going to marry each other?"  She cocked an eyebrow at him and took Chris's bottle, knocking back a swallow.  "Granted, this is twice, but how likely is it you guys will go for a third?  Oh and I plan to get drunk tonight, too."

"Not in my pub you're not."

"Mom?"

I shook my head and put my hands up.  "It's his pub."

"It's yours now too, California has a joint property law.  You guys got married, whatever he owns is yours."

Ewan choked on his beer and looked at Tom, cracking up and pointing at him.  "You're well and proper fucked now, you great tall git!  Piss her off and she'll own you!"

Tom winked at me as he downed his beer.  "She already does.  And yeah, I am."

 

Chris hefted me up and carried me back into the pub while Tom and Cara followed, their arms around each other.  "Be careful with her," he warned Chris.  "I want her still looking like a princess when I dance with her."  

Chris tossed me up in the air a little and I squealed, grabbing onto his neck and laughing when one of my shoes fell off.  Cara picked it up and handed it to Tom.  "I knew you'd have a stroke when you saw how beautiful she looked."

"Babe," he said, spinning my shoe by the strap, "I have a stroke _every_ time I see how beautiful she looks."  I looked back at him over Chris's shoulder and he was smiling at me, a little bleary eyed from his illicit activity in the alley, but the smile was sincere and... _adoring._  

"...fifty times a day."

Ewan and Chris both made loud verbal cringing noises.  When they were finished hooting and fake gagging, Ewan held the door to the main room open for us to all go through into the crowded, noisy pub, now completely packed with partygoers and friends who erupted into loud cheers when they saw us.

"You guys are a fairytale whether you want to be or not."

 

The party was as close as you can get to out of control without the authorities being invited.  Chris sat me down on the bar and went around to start serving drinks, Ewan started messing with the jukebox, and Kady, Cara and I moved out into the crowd to dance.  Tom watched from behind the bar for a while, grinning happily at me.  It was obvious he was enjoying himself, but I think he was enjoying even more watching me have a good time, and it showed in his face.

After a while he came out from behind the bar and took me by the hand, pulling me up tight into his arms and kissing me in front of everybody.  I felt my cheeks go hot but he made it clear he didn't care that a hundred people were watching - he held me close against him and kissed me until Ewan changed the song to something slower, then he pressed his forehead against mine and whispered that he loved me.

 

 _I didn't know what day it was_  
_When you walked into the room_  
_I said hello unnoticed_  
_You said goodbye too soon_

 _Breezing through the clientele_  
_Spinning yarns that were so lyrical_  
_I really must confess right here_  
_The attraction was purely physical_

 _I took all those habits of yours_  
_That in the beginning were hard to accept_  
_Your fashion sense, beardsly prints_  
_I put down to experience_

 _The big bosomed lady with the dutch accent_  
_Who tried to change my point of view_  
_Her ad-lib lines were well rehearsed_  
_But my heart cried out for you_

 _You're in my heart, you're in my soul_  
_You'll be my breath should I grow old_  
_You are my lover, you're my best friend_  
_You're in my soul_

 _My love for you is immeasurable_  
_My respect for you immense_  
_You're ageless, timeless, lace and fineness_  
_You're beauty and elegance_

 _You're a rhapsody, a comedy_  
_You're a symphony and a play_  
_You're every love song ever written_  
_But honey, what do you see in me?_

 _You're in my heart, you're in my soul_  
_You'll be my breath should I grow old_  
_You are my lover, you're my best friend_  
_You're in my soul_

 _You're an essay in glamor_  
_Please pardon the grammar_  
_But you're every schoolboy's dream_  
_You're Celtic United, but baby I've decided_  
_You're the best team I've ever seen_

 _And there have been many affairs_  
_Many times I've thought to leave_  
_But I bite my lip and turn around_  
_'Cause you're the warmest thing I've ever found_

 _You're in my heart, you're in my soul_  
_You'll be my breath should I grow old_  
_You are my lover, you're my best friend_  
_You're in my soul_

 

 

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the end is "You're In My Heart (The Final Acclaim)" by Rod Stewart, 1977...please go have a listen, this song sums up Tom and Anja's entire relationship in four romantic minutes that will make your heart explode :)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jylOeeRDJ78


	37. The Story So Far

 

 

 

**It all began here...**

**Tommy's Pub** , a tavern/bar in San Diego where much of the story takes place.  Owned and run by Tom Heyworth for the last eight years, it's considered one of the area's best pubs and has been a favorite longtime meeting spot for a group of friends that includes Tom, Anja, Kady, Chris, Ewan, Eric, and several others who are loosely referred to as "the gang."   

 

_**~~~~~~~~~~Our cast of characters~~~~~~~~~~** _

 

**Ewan Douglas McDonough** , 25, Scottish, barman at Tommy's Pub.  A drifter who ended up back in San Diego after leaving home at seventeen, he's got a long history with Tom, who hired him when no one else would due to his checkered past and multiple run-ins with the law.  Recently revealed a surprising link to Anja's former employer Robert Laing.  Former juvenile delinquent, drives a Harley Davidson, smokes pot, curses a lot, sings loudly, may or may not be bi, possibly has a pervy thing for Tom's fifteen-year old daughter Cara.  Has been threatened with his life multiple times by Tom for the aforementioned 'pervy thing'. Loyal and fiercely devoted to Tom and Anja, a go-to guy who can almost always get whatever you need...you just might not want to know _how._

 

**Christopher Scott Hemberley** , 30, San Diego native.  Tom's best friend, they have a long history going back nearly fifteen years to when they were teenagers and Tom, who had just arrived in San Diego, wandered into Mrs Hemberley's dress shop in search of directions; she recognized the signs of trauma and near starvation in the fifteen-year old and insisted that he come home with her for dinner.  He and Chris became inseparable friends and Tom eventually was taken into their home to live after it was discovered he was sleeping in an abandoned apartment building with no water or electricity.  It was Chris and his mother who figured out Tom was suffering from PTSD caused by his abusive stepfather and took steps to help him recover.  He and Chris shared a room for three years until Tom was eighteen and moved into a place of his own, the apartment near the pub where he still lives.  

Chris went to school with Tom's sister Emma, though she was a few years behind him.  Big and muscular with an imposing personality, Chris sometimes acts as bouncer at Tom's pub and also tends bar frequently, though he's not officially an employee and has a job in an automotive customization shop, where he is foreman and lead mechanic.  He has a girlfriend, Eva, and is Tom's most loyal friend.  Fiercely protective, he considers Tom his little brother and the two share a lot of secrets, including the truth about what happened the night Eric's father died.  He was present when it happened and was the eyewitness who gave the police the details of the accident - though they may or may not have been strictly 'accurate'.

**Eric David Lensher** , 31, San Diego native, casual acquaintance of both Tom and Anja and the protagonist for the beginning of their relationship.  A "mutual friend of a mutual friend", Eric hangs out at Tom's pub after work with a large group of buddies and work associates.  While walking Anja out one night, a drunken Eric made an ill-fated move on her outside the pub and was rejected;  angered, he attacked Anja and was immediately taken down by Tom, who had followed them out after sensing trouble.  It was later revealed that there has been bad blood between Eric and Tom since they were teenagers - Tom's sister Emma was fostered into the Lensher home and the abusive father was accidentally killed during an attempt by Tom to remove her from their home.  Eric was not present when the accident occurred and has held to the belief that Tom murdered his father, though he's never been able to prove anything.

  

**Robert Walther Laing** , 45, London-born, corporate attorney and Senior Partner at Laing, Whiston, and Associates law firm.  Anja's former employer, their relationship as co-workers was strained for years due to his flirtatious nature and habit of bedding his female associates, culminating in an assault that triggered revelations concerning his checkered past.  Shown here with one of his company's computer techs, Laing can be friendly and amiable with co-workers, but is known to be a ruthless shark in the boardroom, with peerless negotiation skills and a deep knowledge of the ins and outs of corporate law.  He is brilliant and devious, and not afraid to pursue what he wants with a predatory determination that runs roughshod over anyone who gets in his way.  

An intensely dominant personality, he's attempted several times to seduce Anja, seemingly taking her refusal to be charmed by him in good stride and continuing to hold a good work relationship with her despite several failed sexual advances.  In an attempt to convince her she was in a relationship that was beneath her, he launched a private investigation into Tom's history - but instead of unearthing evidence that would back his claim that he was the better choice, he only found proof that Tom was more than worthy of Anja's affections.  He discontinued the investigation and gave Anja the file containing the details of Tom's past, resulting in their discovery of his daughter's existence and the revelation that Tom's sister Emma, whom Anja had believed to be deceased, was in fact alive and in a mental facility.

Laing's intention was to groom Anja to take his place while he himself climbed to a higher position, with her at his side as a business partner, but his ulterior motives in seeking out a more intimate relationship with her soon caused discord between himself and Tom.  Two high-tier alphas, they had a handful of minor power-struggle encounters before their final confrontation over his underhanded manipulation of Anja after her brain injury and her resultant confusion over the true nature of their relationship.  That confrontation resulted in a physical assault that Laing intended to use to have Tom locked up, leaving Anja vulnerable, but after an accidental crossing of paths clued Tom in to a potentially devastating scandal concerning Laing's family, he quietly bowed out of his revenge proceedings and seems - for now - to have acceded defeat to protect himself and his son, who may or may not have been the result of a dalliance with his own stepmother.

 

**Kady Pace Carlton** , 31, San Diego native.  Best friends with Anja due to the close nature of their work association, Kady had a crush on Tom for years and always flirted mercilessly with him, despite his failure to ever acknowledge it. Heartbroken when she discovered him in Anja's bed, Kady's angry sense of betrayal caused her to end their friendship and accept a promoted position in the firm, transferring to London in Anja's place for the position Laing had first offered her.  Now living in England, she flew back to San Diego to be in the wedding, a surprise gift from Tom to Anja that resulted in the mending of their friendship.

 

**Emma Jane Heyworth** , 26, younger sister of Tom.  London-born, lived in Detroit Michigan as a child and spent several years in various foster homes until being sent to San Diego to live with the Lenshers. Currently residing in Stonebrooke Rehabilitative Facility, a recuperative home for adults with mental disabilities.  Emma suffered a psychotic break the night Eric Lensher's father died, removing herself from the situation by separating from reality and retreating into her own mind to survive the trauma.  She cannot function outside the care facility and has no relationship with her brother, whom she considers to be a "ghost", and is triggered into panicked hysteria whenever she sees him.  She has developed something of a friendship with Anja, who, since her brain injury, she considers to be similar to herself.  Emma seems to have a strange, otherworldly insight into people and often reveals things to them that they've never realized about themselves.

 

**Alicia Kane Olivetti** , shown at 38 (when she met Tom).  A wealthy woman on a business trip, Alicia found fifteen-year old Tom sleeping in a bus station in Albuquerque New Mexico and, believing him to be older due to his looks and tall stature, took him to her hotel to spend the night.  After discovering his true age after he gave her a missing child poster with his picture on it as a keepsake, she offered him money to get him to his destination safely.  He refused to accept it, so Alicia took it upon herself to teach him some skills that would help him get there quicker.  Tom considers this to be the reason he made it to San Diego alive and relatively unscathed.

She conceived a child from him during their single night together and passed away from a long term illness when the little girl was six.  She left both her daughter and Tom large sums of money in her will, bequeathing him an undisclosed amount that was released to him on his twenty-first birthday, at which time he was informed that she had died.  Tom obeyed her request for him to "buy something that would give him a sense of belonging somewhere" and used some of the money to buy the pub that already coincidentally bore his name; the rest was used to get his sister into the exclusive Stonebrooke care facility.  Her daughter, Cara, was always told that her father was a good person and that her mother loved him, even though they hadn't known each other long.  It was her words to Cara on her deathbed about him ("he had to find his own way") that encouraged her years later to find her dad and become a part of his life.

 

**Tricia Davis Stephenson** , 72, grandmother of Cara Heyworth.  Lives in Taos, New Mexico, where she has raised her granddaughter alone since the death of her daughter-in-law.  Supportive of Cara's new relationship with her father and stepmother, she's raised the teen to have a strong sense of self sufficiency and allows her to make her own decisions and life choices.  She helped Cara locate her father and has been agreeable to the cultivation of their bond, allowing Cara to move to San Diego temporarily to be with Tom and Anja during Anja's recovery.

 

**Cara Elizabeth Heyworth** , Tom's fifteen year old daughter from his brief relationship with Alicia Olivetti.  Resides in Taos, New Mexico;  currently staying in San Diego with Tom & Anja to help out while Anja is recovering from her illness.  Highly intelligent and motivated, she graduated high school early and is currently studying wildlife sciences in an advance placement college program, specializing in lupine studies (wolves).  Tall and dark haired, she strongly resembles her dad and looks much older than her age;  she is possessed of a strong sense of self and a maturity well beyond her years, and shares her father's strong survival skills and love of wolves. She traveled on her own to San Diego to be with Tom while Anja was in the hospital, and has stayed, taking on the duties of watching over her stepmom and helping her re-learn many basic skills during the afternoons and evenings while Tom is at work.  When he's home, she tends to her studies online in pursuit of her veterinary degree.

When she was 14 she made the decision to find her father, and with the help of her grandmother, utilized an attorney to liaison with Laing & Whiston, where Anja was employed at the time.  Tom was made aware of her existence through Laing's work on the case and the two began communicating over the phone, culminating in a trip to New Mexico to meet, where father and daughter immediately bonded.  They now have a close relationship and tentative plans are being made for Cara to possibly move to San Diego permanently at some point in the future.

 

**Thomas Adam Heyworth** , 29, London-born, spent his early childhood in and around Detroit Michigan before running away to San Diego to find his sister when he was fifteen.  Half Cree Nation on his father's side and highborn Scot on his mother's, he stands well over six feet tall and has long, straight black hair and blue/green/grey eyes that most often project as a mixed turquoise.  Owner of Tommy's Pub, a tavern/bar he bought when he was 21 with money left to him by a woman he met during his cross-country journey from Detroit to San Diego.  

Recently married to Anja Black, whom he's known for years due to their both belonging to a group of friends who meet regularly at his pub after work. Longtime acquaintances who carried on a playful - and sometimes mildly vicious - dislike of one another while they were both seeing other people, an event outside the pub involving a drunken member of their group resulted in them becoming close, and during a resultant night spent together he claimed and marked her as his - a claim that Anja respected without any conscious decision to do so.  He presented her with a silver bonding ring a few weeks later to represent the permanence of their attachment to one another.  

During his long journey from Detroit to San Diego as a teen runaway, he met Alicia Olivetti, an older woman on a business trip who took pity on his desperate situation and invited him back to her hotel room on the mistaken belief that he was much older.  They had a child together that Tom didn't know about until he was 29.  He has since cultivated a close relationship with his teenage daughter and they share many of the same interests, including an almost obsessive love of wolves.  Tom has one younger sister, Emma, who is in a mental health care facility, a provision he pays for entirely on his own.  

Quiet, somewhat moody at times with a dark sense of humor, highly accomplished and capable, Tom has a deep understanding of people and life situations due to having been on his own since childhood.  He's highly empathetic and intuitive, relying often on feelings and emotions to guide his actions.  He has a highly developed sense of smell that allows him to interpret situations based on scent, which lends itself to his lifelong fascination with wolves.  He is also possessed of a heightened awareness, causing him to sometimes come across as "otherworldly", a trait he shares with his sister.  

He has a tattoo down his left side that starts at his hip and ends at his ankle, depicting a series of scenes involving the Norse legend of Fenrir, the wolf son of Loki, whom he identifies with on a spiritual level.  A jagged scar is hidden in the tattoo at his hip, the result of his sister's failed murder attempt on Eric Lensher's father.  Tom is a highly dominant personality, but despite being an apex alpha male, he treats his mate with great care and respect.  He chose Anja based on their compatibility, something he was able to determine from his natural reaction to her scent.  After carrying on a playfully antagonistic semi-friendship with her for several years, he finally made his move after rescuing her from a drunkenly violent Eric Lensher, and bonded with her two nights later after giving her a protective "marking" to prevent aggression against her from other males.  Her fascination with his odd behavior and deep understanding of the primitive nature of lust and attraction caused her to allow him to lay claim to her, and the two have been together ever since.  They made a commitment to each other early on in their relationship, but Anja's illness and Tom's inability to sign her medical papers due to not being her legal spouse made him acutely aware of the need to commit to a legal bond with her as well.  They married quickly in a courthouse ceremony, then again a couple of weeks later in a proper formal ceremony at a gothic castle cathedral.  

He and Anja have a deep understanding of one another, and despite being opposites in many aspects, their personalities and dispositions suit each other perfectly.  They have an intensely Dominant/submissive side to their relationship that fulfills both their emotional needs, and he cares for his mate deeply, offering her protection and absolute loyalty, love, and devotion, treating her as his equal.

 

**Anja Marie Black** , 32, born in Colorado and raised in and around Colorado Springs, moved to San Diego as an adult.  Orphaned at a very young age with no siblings, Anja was raised by a very upper-class grandmother (who is rumored to not actually have been a relative) who taught her to be a smart, self sufficient, business-oriented proper lady with a polite modesty and good values.  She was engaged to be married before losing her fiance in a tragic accident, and remained single for two years afterward before hooking up with Tom Heyworth in an against-character encounter that resulted in them spending the night together despite the fact that she believed she wasn't attracted to him - or for that matter, even liked him.  They married a little less than a year later, after having been bonded and mated for many months.

Anja's recent illness (which culminated in a severe case of meningitis) has left her with slightly impaired cognitive ability, but with Tom's care (and the help of her stepdaughter Cara) she is recovering quickly and is projected to make a full recovery.  Small in stature with dark auburn hair and blue/green eyes.  Former executive assistant to Robert Laing, Anja left her position in the firm after a sexual assault by her boss that triggered a series of events leading up to the discovery of Laing's scandalous secrets involving Ewan McDonough's family and his own half-brother.  Sweet, smart, submissive, kind hearted, slightly naive, quietly adventurous, extremely tolerant, curious, and willing to follow Tom into anything - no matter how unusual or against her nature - she's a good match for his darker, wilder personality and balances him perfectly with her strength of character and inquisitive nature.  Tom has revealed her to be an alpha female, but she chooses to remain submissive to him despite their equal standing.  

Since pairing up with Tom, Anja has spent much time helping out at the pub and recently took on new parental responsibilities as Cara's stepmother.  Intensely loyal, she supports her mate in everything, despite his sometimes dogged refusal to share information until she pesters it out of him.  Of the two of them, she is the one that held onto her independence the longest, clinging to the insistence that she really didn't like him despite their rapidly growing devotion to one another.  She brings out the playful side of Tom's nature and they often tease one another mercilessly.

Having turned down the offer of a prestigious promotion that would have resulted in her transfer to the London offices of Laing & Whiston, Anja chose instead to remain with Tom, passing up the opportunity to climb the corporate ladder at the side of her boss, the ambitious and ruthless Robert Laing.  Laing saw great potential in Anja and tried multiple times to pull her up with him, but despite being very good at her job and catching the attention of the upper echelon, she didn't have any real desire to move up in the company.  Although she had Tom's unflagging support, she made the decision to forego career advancement in favor of preserving her relationship with him. In return he vowed to take care of her no matter what, and when she fell ill he made the decision to marry her, unaware at the time if she was going to recover.  They wed privately in a courthouse registrar's office, then a second time in a public ceremony that involved their friends and family.

Anja's more logical, sensible nature sometimes seems a glaring contradiction to Tom's primal wildness and tough demeanor, but instead of clashing, they discovered early on that their differences complement each other perfectly.  Anja loves Tom unreservedly, with no judgement concerning his past, and offers him unwavering support even when she doesn't understand his deep-seated issues.

 

  **~~~~~~~~~~ Tom & Anja ~~~~~~~~~~**

 

Bitch Pudding, the love of Tom's life <3

 

Tom lives not far from the pub and often walks to work.  Anja lives a couple of blocks away;  Tom walked her home a few nights after defending her from Eric and invited himself in after charming her with his odd behavior, and they've been together ever since.  She's mentioned him moving into her place but Tom always either ignores it or responds with annoyance, but now with the prospect of his daughter Cara staying with them often, the necessity of a bigger place has made him consider the need to give up his apartment in favor of Anja's much larger house.  

_(credit to rancidrainbow for the picture)_

 

 

Tom is very tall and wiry with a slight but strong physique, much stronger than his slim build makes him appear.  He claims to be 6'2 but in reality is probably closer to 6'3, and wears a worn out pair of Doc Marten boots that make him even taller, resulting in a very imposing presence despite his boyish face and kind eyes. 

_(credit to moonrainbow for this gorgeous picture)_

 

The famous **back room sofa at the pub** , where approximately half of all Tom & Anja's sexual encounters seem to take place.  The origins of the sofa are unknown, but it appears to be an authentic antique Victorian-era lounging couch in remarkably good condition, despite being a daily napping spot for both Ewan and Tom and, more recently, a favored place for romantic encounters between Tom & Anja.  The sofa came with the pub and was there when Tom bought the place, and he left it in its original spot near the rear door into the alley.  This is where he first brought Anja to tend to her face when Eric punched her, the night their relationship began.

 

**~~~~~~~~~~THE WEDDING~~~~~~~~~~**

 

**Tom's wedding suit** , worn to his & Anja's second wedding.  Since they'd already officially married a couple of weeks earlier in the office of the Justice of the Peace, Tom wanted to let Anja have a "real" wedding, with Cara and Ewan taking care of the arrangements for the small event.  Tom and his best man and groomsman (Chris and Ewan) each outfitted themselves in suits of their own choosing.  After being told by Anja "don't wear something appropriate, wear something _**Y** **OU"**_ ,  this is what Tom put together.  The biker boots are Chris's, constituting the "something borrowed".  

_(credit to rancidrainbow for this beautiful picture)_

 

**Anja's wedding dress** \- "something blue".  Worn to their second wedding;  Cara and Kady wore similar dresses as bridesmaid and maid of honor (the same blue without the beadwork and embroidery).  Anja wanted something modest with sleeves and no exposed cleavage or excessive skin, but Cara wanted her to show off a little - this dress was the compromise, still modest enough to suit Anja's somewhat shy sense of propriety but fancy enough to make Cara happy. Since her first wedding dress (from her tragically canceled wedding three years previous) was the standard white and very traditional, Anja wanted something different, choosing sky blue instead.  She also felt it better suited "the new me" that she's slowly evolved into since falling in love with Tom, who is a decidedly un-traditional person.

 

The look on Tom's face when he saw Anja coming down the aisle in that dress ;)  

_(credit to rancidrainbow for the picture)_

 

_ _

**Hampstead Castle Cathedral** , where Tom and Anja were married the second time.

 

_**~~~~~~~~~~Miscellaneous Story Details~~~~~~~~~~** _

 

**Tom's bedroom** , dark with brick walls, arched doorways and high ceilings, a bit gothic in design due to the old architectural style of the house. 

_(thanks to admiraldemoy for the image)_

 

**The trust test** \- when Tom dunked Anja in the tub to show her she could trust him in any situation, even when her own safety was completely out of her hands. This is what went on after ;)  

_(credit to purplerhino for the lovely artwork)_

Tom most often dresses in dark colors, favoring tee shirts and blue jeans as his usual daily attire - but he cleans up nicely when the situation calls for it.  Standing outside before the wedding, waiting till the last minute for Cara to tell him it's time to put on his jacket and go inside.  

_(Thanks to admiraldemoy for yet another gorgeous piece of art)_

 

Anja most often wore business suits and dressy skirts/blouses while employed at the law firm, but since quitting her job she's begun wearing more relaxed, casual attire and no longer keeps her hair pulled up in her usual formal business-like style.  Tom approves, even though he's always enjoyed the slightly perverse illusion of "sullying" a classy, above-his-station type woman.

  

**Anja's house** \- the little red one in the center.  She and Tom had their first kiss on the sidewalk at the foot of those steps, the evening he walked her home and invited himself in for the night.

 

**Tom's apartment** \- on the top floor of the blue house in the center.

**Tom and Anja's matching hammered silver bonding rings** , worn on their thumbs.  Made from a single piece of silver, the origin of which Tom seems to be secretive about.  The only time Anja's has ever been off her thumb was when she was hospitalized and a nurse forcibly removed it;  Tom carried it in his pocket until she woke from her coma and asked where it was.  Instantly recognized by Laing as a symbol of being mated for life.

**Tom and Anja's wedding rings** , made from the same silver as their bonding rings.  When asked where they came from,  
Tom declined to respond, so the origin of the silver is a mystery at this point.

 

**Tom's car** , the one that "has a nice rumble".  Previously seen in the roadtrip to New Mexico chapters.

 

Part of the **wolf compound at the wildlife preserve in Taos** , New Mexico, where Cara works as a summer intern for college.  Tom fell in love with the wolves and spent much time there when he and Anja traveled to meet Cara.

 

The grounds at **Stonebrook Care Facility** , where Tom's sister Emma lives.

 

The day room at **Stonebrooke** , where Tom and Anja visit Emma.  To the right of the staircase is the doorway to the hall where Tom waits so that Emma can't see him while Anja checks on her.

 

**Tom & Anja**  - Bitch Pudding and her wolfman <3  

_(credit to sabinashi for this adorable bit of art)_

 

Tom's famous disapproving stare

_(credit to Amatasera for this gorgeous work of art!)_

 

 

 

**_TO BE CONTINUED..._ **

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've attempted to give proper credit to all the wonderful artists for the images in this chapter - if I've missed anyone, please let me know! The other photos are borrowed from the web and are the property of their respective owners. Thank you to all the artists, photographers, and Photoshoppers!


	38. Chapter 38

 

 

The movies try to convince you that after you get married, everything changes and this misty veil of romance and excitement settles over everything for a while.  We danced and drank and partied and popped off to the back room to play around a little while our guests were doing shots and playing strip poker out front, but aside from the surreal drama of Tom trying to work around my dress without getting anything sticky on it, everything else was pretty much the same as it had always been.  And I was glad for that.

I didn't want anything to change, because it was all perfect.

 

As we slipped away to the office, Tom gripped the back of my neck and squeezed, just tightly enough to remind me who I belonged to.  The simple gesture made me feel weak with desire and I wished for a moment that I'd brought my collar so I could show him how much I agreed with the sentiment, but once he got me inside the back room and the door fell shut behind us, I knew he had no intention of this being about dominance and submission.  This was us, just Tom and Anja, newlyweds.  Slightly high, slightly drunk, very happy, and very much having difficulty getting one of us out of a baby blue monstrosity of a dress. 

"Shall I try to lay you down on the sofa, or just duck under your skirt?"

"I can't bend."

He grinned, slowly lowering to his knees in front of me.  "I think we can get around that."  His eyes held mine as he gathered my skirt in his hands and lifted it, giving me a sly wink as he ducked his head under and let my dress fall over his back.  I looked down and giggled;  from above, it appeared I was wearing a bustle, holding my skirt out in an exaggerated poof where Tom was crouched beneath it.  I felt his hands sliding slowly up my inner thighs, urging them apart, and I shifted my feet to give him room.  Warm fingers moved my panties aside and toyed with me, teasing my folds, making me squirm with pleasure as they slipped inside.

"Thomas Adam Heyworth, you naughty boy," I gasped as his warm tongue began lapping at me.  There was a low chuckle from somewhere under my dress, and then everything went all blissful. 

 

We napped on the sofa for a while afterwards, him at one end and me at the other.  It wasn't the most romantic of post-wedding positions to find oneself in, but I had nothing to change into and the top of my dress wouldn't allow me to lay on my stomach...so Tom stretched out on his back at one end and I lay on my mine at the other end between his legs, with my feet up on his shoulders.  He rubbed my feet until I fell asleep, happy and contented, to the muted sound of a hundred people in the next room, celebrating our wedding without us.

 

When we finally emerged, flushed-cheeked and wild-eyed from Tom throwing my skirt over my head and waking me with his tongue, most of the partyers had made their way home;  there was a small round of applause from the remaining guests and Kady made her way over to me, side-eyeing Tom until he was gone into the kitchen before she spoke.

"Robert was here," she whispered, tilting her head toward the table at the back wall where people had stacked wedding gifts.  "He left something."

"Robert?"

"Our boss.  Laing.  You remember him, right?"

I shot a worried look past her to make sure Tom wasn't in hearing distance.  "Of course I remember him.  What the hell was he doing _here?_  And he's not my boss anymore.  Wait - you call him _Robert?"_

She grabbed me by the arm and turned me around, walking me to the table like nothing was going on.  "Here.  He left this."  She picked up an envelope and put it in my hand, keeping a grip on my arm so that our backs were to the rest of the room.  "You probably should open it before Tom sees it."  I stared at her, not really comprehending what she was so nervous about;  she finally gave me an exasperated look and said "So I can sneak it out of here if it's something that's going to provoke him to murder?  Duh?"

"Okay, okay."

As I started to open it, she elbowed me with a grin.  "We heard about the beatdown all the way out in London.  There was this rumor that Mr Laing had tried to get a little too familiar with an employee and their boyfriend beat the shit out of him, right in his own office."  She broke into barely muffled giggles, covering her hand with her mouth.  "I knew it was you and Tom, it just had you guys written all over it.  Then the surveillance tape started making the rounds - "

"Surveillance tape?  Oh my god are you serious?"

"Yeah, I've seen it."  She was in full fan girl mode now, so excited she was bouncing.  "Tom nearly _killed_ him.  That boy is a first class bad ass, it's like a damn Jason Statham movie."

"You _saw_ the video tape...?"

"Yep.  You're on it too, you know.  Leaving the scene like the getaway driver."  She burst into full blown laughter then.  "How did you avoid a lawsuit is what I want to know?"

I tore open the envelope and pulled out an embossed card;  it had the standard congratulatory sentiments on it in pretty silver script, hand signed by Laing.  I was about to wad it up and take it out back to the dumpster to keep Tom from finding it when something fell out and fluttered to the floor.

"Ugh, pick that up would you?  I can't bend over."

Kady picked it up and I watched as her mouth fell open.

"Holy shit - "

"Shhhh!"  I shushed her, looking around nervously.

"No, I mean it - _holy shit Anja!"_

I grabbed her and gave her a push toward the back room;  she went without argument, and once the door was safely shut behind us I took the slip of paper from her hand and looked at it.  I had to read it twice for it to sink in.

Kady started stammering, pointing at the paper.

"That's a check for $185,000."

"I see that."

"No, you're not understanding what I'm saying. _That - "_  She took it out of my hand and shook it in my face.  " - is a check for _one hundred and eighty five thousand dollars!"_

I started laughing.  "Calm down, it's not a wedding present.  This is for Ewan."

"Ewan?  The Scottish pothead guy?"

"Yeah.  Laing is his little brother's dad.  He owes them like ten years back child support."  I took the check back and looked at it again, wondering why he'd given it to me instead of to Ewan's mom directly.  No doubt just rubbing it in, reminding me of what a great guy he could be...or maybe he just wanted me to know he'd made good on his end of the deal, to remind us to do the same.  Either way, the McDonough house was going to be a very happy place tonight.  I couldn't resist a huge smile, knowing we'd won.  I had the proof in my hand.  And even though it made me very uneasy knowing Laing had, once again, underhandedly challenged Tom's territory, I could overlook it because he'd finally righted this horrific wrong.

"Go get Ewan," I ordered Kady, stuffing the check into an envelope from the desk drawer and tearing up the one it had come in.  "But do it discreetly - I'll have to figure out how to tell Tom about it, but I don't want to do that till later."

 

After I'd sent Ewan home with the check, I went back out front and danced with Tom for a little while.  He nuzzled my neck, whispering to me - naughty stuff mostly, making me giggle...until he laid me back in a deep dramatic dip and said, "By the way, I have a friend with a cabin in Big Bear.  He's giving it to us for two weeks."  He pulled me up and winked at me as he unknotted his tie and yanked it off his neck. "Honeymoon, baby."

The thought instantly excited me - I hadn't been back to the mountains since I'd left Colorado Springs, years ago.  Tom watched my face as he loosened the neck of his shirt, eyeing me in a way that made me just a little bit nervous.  He finally took me back into his arms and pulled me tight against him, so tight that I had no choice but to sway with him as he began slow dancing again.  He pressed his lips against my ear and gave me a little kiss, then whispered,

_"I know he was here."_

A chill shot through me.  Of course he knew...he always knew everything that went on in his place, every person that set foot through the door.  He'd been asleep in the back with me when Laing showed up, but that didn't mean he wasn't aware of it the whole time.  It was stupid of me to think I could hide it from him.

"I was going to tell you..."

"I know."

He nuzzled me again and the chill left my spine as he rubbed my back, his soft breath warming my ear.  I buried my face against his chest and relaxed.  "How did you know?"  I looked up at him expectantly, waiting for some slightly supernatural explanation of pheromones and territorial marking and the magical biology of blood enemies and instinct...but he just chuckled quietly, a hint of disdain mixed into it.  

"That damn Creed cologne he wears.  The whole place stinks of it."

I raised my head and sniffed, but all I could smell was whiskey and Tom's cologne - the Spicebomb Cara had given him - and a faint trace of weed.  Something told me there was much more to it than perfume.

But I wasn't about to push it.

 

Two days later we were in the mountains, on our honeymoon, in a tiny cabin next to a creek below an old copper mine.  It started to snow on our way up the mountain, and by the time we arrived, just before dark, the world was sparkling.  It was just a two and a half hour drive, but I was tired when we got there;  my seizures had been acting up and I wasn't sleeping well.  Tom had cleared the trip with my doctor, who thought some relaxing time out of town would do me good.

"We're here, baby," he said quietly, coming around my side to get me out of the car.  "And look - it snowed, just for us."

I smiled happily as he took me inside and wrapped me up in a blanket while I shivered, depositing me into a big cushy chair while he started a fire in the fireplace.  It wasn't long before it was blazing and the cabin was warm, cozy, almost unbearably romantically _perfect._

"I want you to sleep, girly," he instructed me, his voice quiet but with an authority that I recognized.  I knew better than to disobey him when he got that tone.  "You're tired, this is the perfect opportunity for you to get some good rest."  He kissed me between my eyes and pulled the blanket tighter around me.  "We have two weeks, there's plenty of time."

I nodded, smiling sleepily.  I intended to get into the bed while he was outside bringing in more firewood, but when he got back I was still in the chair, so warm and comfortable and drowsy that I didn't even really realize he'd left and come back until he picked me up and carried me across to the bed, tucking me in fully dressed, still wrapped in the big blanket from the chair.  He kissed me, murmuring _goodnight, girly_ against my forehead, but I was asleep before he finished saying it.

 

I stepped outside into the freshly fallen snow;  it crunched under my feet, a strange sensation for a city girl so far removed from her mountain home.  Tom was at the edge of the creek pulling the cooler out of the icy water.  I just stood still, in the doorway of the little cabin, wrapped up in a scratchy woolen blanket looking at him.   _My husband._  It carried a whole different connotation than _my mate..._ neither was better than the other, but now the world had to acknowledge us.  We belonged to each other, and not just in our own eyes, by our own rules.  We were playing by everyone else's rules now, too.

He looked back over his shoulder at me and smiled, that wide, no-limits smile that was perfectly Tom and Tom alone.  Long black hair shining almost blue in the early morning sunlight, eyes almost unnaturally bright.  He hadn't shaved in several days and there was a light stubble of jet black whiskers across his chin.  He was so beautiful, it tugged at my heart.

"Please tell me you're naked under that blanket."  He was bent over the cooler, throwing supplies for breakfast over his shoulder into the snowbank a few feet away from me.  I gave him a coy grin.

"I might be."

He stood up and looked at me, cocking one eye as he surveyed my attire.  I _was_ naked, save for a battered pair of too-big cowboy boots on my feet and the old blanket wrapped tightly around my shoulders.

"Where'd you get the boots?"

I looked down at my feet.  "They were in the closet."  I held one foot out in front of me and he laughed.

"Keep them on.  But lose the blanket."

I did as I was told, dropping the blanket, sucking in my breath and squealing when the icy wind hit my bare skin.  Tom grinned, dropping the cooler back into the water and breaking into a run toward me.

"Oh no - "

I turned and ran back into the cabin, but he caught me with those freakishly long arms of his and yanked me up against him, picking me up and setting me roughly on his hips while I wrapped myself around him, shivering and trying to get inside his shirt with him.  His mouth came to mine and we tore at each other, groaning and kissing, refusing to let anything be between us but our own skin.

"Remember when we chose each other?" I asked, pulling my mouth away from his just long enough to get the words out.  He growled and nipped at my chin.

"Of course I remember."

"Remember what you said to me?"

Another growl, more threatening this time.  "That I'd protect you and take care of you."

"Yes...and the rest?"

"Anja, shut up."

"No, tell me the rest."

He sat me on the table in front of the window and leaned me back against it;  the glass was frosted with ice and I yelped, sitting bolt upright, slamming into his chest.  He gave me a wicked little laugh and bent his head to run his tongue across my collarbone.

"I said that you could keep your independence if you wanted it."

"Yes.  And the rest?"

He tilted his head and looked at me, eyes narrowed.

"You know the rest."

I pouted, but he refused to answer.  I gave in and answered it myself.  "You said if I wanted kids, you'd give me kids."

"I did give you kids."

"Not _grown_ ones.   _Little_ ones."  I tried pushing him away to make him pay attention but he wouldn't be budged.  "Ones that I'm related to."

He finally sighed and stood back a little so he could look me square in the face.  I tilted my head up and met his stare.

"Are you saying you want a baby?"

Hearing the words from his mouth sounded so... _strange_...I suddenly wasn't so sure anymore.  But I'd been thinking about it for a few weeks and the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.  I just wasn't sure he would.

"I think so...yeah."

"You can't just think so, Anja.  It's a pretty permanent thing."

"I know."

He looked past me for a moment and I knew he was thinking hard about it.  His face was curiously blank when he looked at me again.

"You really want a baby?"

I nodded.  "Yes."

"Do you want to think about it a bit?"

"I already have."

"Of course you have."  He gave me a scowl that didn't quite come across as serious.  "Have you talked to the doctor yet?  He might need to change your meds first."

"Not yet, but I have an appointment a few days after we get back."

The disapproving scowl came back again.  "Well you've just worked this all out, haven't you?"

I nodded, hoping he wasn't going to be irritated with me.  But when he brought his eyes back to mine again, his lips tugged up in a little smile.

"Well okay then, I guess.  But not until you get absolute approval from the specialist, alright?"

I nodded, wrapping my legs around his waist as he scooted in close to me again.  "Right."

"I mean it, Anja.  Nothing left to chance.   _Nothing."_

I was nodding the whole time he was talking, ridiculously excited and ready to agree to anything.  "Yes sir."

He stared at me for a long time and I wished I could read his face, to know what he was thinking, to feel what he felt so I would know if he truly wanted this or if he was just humoring me.  But he was hiding it all safely away from me, the way he did when he was dealing with something big.  I knew he'd let me know once he had it sorted in his own head...but sometimes the waiting was unbearable, and his poker face was just too damn good.

 

The bed was cold but we warmed it quickly, rubbing and writhing and twisting against one another, taking turns on top, switching so quickly that before long we were tangled in the sheets and laughing.  Tom yanked hard on the top sheet and ripped it out from under me;  the fast friction of the cotton against my skin gave me a sheet burn and I yelped, grabbing my bottom.

"Stop roughing me up, thug."

His mouth was at my hipbone, biting me, his hands sliding under me to move mine away so he could rub my butt.  ""Rough you up, you say?  I can do that."

"No no noooo!"  I giggled uncontrollably while he flipped me over onto my stomach and started tickling me, pinning me down with a carefully placed knee across my back;  he was barely putting any weight on me at all, but I was completely immobilized, something he'd always been able to do with almost frightening ease.  I wanted to know how he knew these things, how to keep someone still so skillfully without hurting them - I'd been curious about it since our first night together - but it was maybe the one thing I refused to let myself ask him.  The possibility of the answer being something I didn't want to know was just far too real.

And at the moment it really didn't matter, because he was licking and kissing and rubbing my backside with all the tenderness and care of a sculptor polishing a freshly carved work of art.   _So much for the rough stuff._ I sighed and let him caress me all over, his big warm hands sliding over me a bit at a time, paying attention to every inch of my body, missing nothing as he worked his way down and back up again.  Each touch was followed by a kiss or a lick, sometimes a little suck, until I was warm and relaxed and ready to fall asleep again.

"Oh no you don't, girly," he growled from somewhere around the backs of my knees, hands spreading my legs as his tongue slid slowly up the inside of my left thigh.  "No naps.  Just fucks."

I giggled like an immature teenager, always amused by his use of bad words...something about the way he said them in that cultured British accent just did things to me, things that made me almost ashamed of myself.  No matter how coarse or rude the word, it never sounded wrong when he said it.

"No naps...just fucks," I agreed, snuggling my head down into the soft pillow as his warm tongue found its way up into my folds, nudging them apart, slipping gently inside to tease me into arousal.  And when it had done its job, I felt him move up to lay over my back, his weight supported by his arms on either side of me, pressing his face to the back of my neck as he pushed himself into me.

 _"I love you, Mrs Heyworth,"_   he breathed against my skin.  My own breath caught in my throat and I buried my face in the pillow to hide my smile.

"I love you too, Mr Black," I whispered back, and he laughed, the most truly happy sound I could ever remember hearing from him.

 

We spent the day alternating between the bed and the great outdoors, until finally I made the bed and banished Tom to go exploring while I cleaned the cabin.  It was a little dusty and disused, but it had everything we needed.  I felt very Laura Ingalls Wilder-ish as I swept the dust out the door and gazed out over the snowy hills, watching my husband stacking firewood in his red flannel shirt and worn jeans...I'd never seen him in flannel before and the effect was almost dizzying.  He looked like he belonged here, in the woods, without a skyscraper or pub in sight.  Just him and me and nature, and for the briefest of moments as I watched him swing the axe, splintering a log with little effort, I thought I might actually want to stay here forever.

 

That night I woke to a strange sound, something both oddly familiar and unsettlingly spooky.  Tom was already awake beside me and I knew he had heard it too, or maybe he'd sensed it long before the sound itself ever made its way to our ears.  Neither of us moved or said anything, waiting for it to come again.

And it did.

Through the rustling of the wind in the trees and the babbling rush of the creek, we could hear the plaintive howl of a wolf.

Tom sat up in the bed, his head tilted to one side, listening.  The moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains over the bed reflected off his face, making him look like something otherworldly and ethereal.  He sat perfectly still, eyes closed, his breathing the only sound in the room - I was holding mine.

"Tom..."

"Shhh...listen."  He was silent again for a long moment, then he looked back at me.  "Do you hear it?"

"I heard a wolf."

"Listen again."

I watched him, imitating him, tilting my head and closing my eyes to see if it would make me hear whatever he was hearing.  After several long seconds, I finally heard it.  A second wolf, so far away that its cry was barely discernible over the wind.

"Is that his mate?"

Tom smiled;  in the silver blue glow of the moon, his eyes were as black as his hair, but I could see that smile.

"It is.  They're calling to each other.  They're miles apart but they know each other is there...if one calls, the other will answer."

I reached up and touched his shoulder, stroking his hair back.  "Like us."  He nodded.

"Just like us."

I sat up behind him and slipped my arms around his front, laying against his back.  I knew he'd want to listen for a while so I didn't disturb him, just sat there leaning against him, listening to his heartbeat and the howling and the wind and the water...it was all so natural and perfect, and even though this was the first time I'd ever seen Tom outside of the city, he seemed to belong here, in the wild.  He seemed at home, and even more profoundly, at peace.

His muscles felt tight, his whole body taut and almost trembling under the surface, even though he was sitting perfectly still - like a cat, wanting so badly to pounce, but holding back until its prey was no longer looking.

"You want to go out there, don't you."

He turned his head just slightly, hearing me but not really paying attention.  I let go of him and he visibly relaxed.

"Go on, then," I urged him, giving him a little push.  "Go, hang out with your people.  I'll be here when you come back."

I don't know if I was shocked or not when he wordlessly left the bed and pulled on his boots and coat, closing the door behind him without so much as a glance back at me.

 

When he returned after what seemed like hours, I had fallen asleep in the chair in front of the fireplace.  He came in so quietly that I didn't know he was there until he was lifting me and carrying me to the bed; when he laid me down I scooted to the middle and curled up against the cold while he slipped in behind me, wrapping himself around me.  He was like ice, but curiously not shivering.

"Did you see them?" I asked sleepily as he pulled my hair back off my face, kissing the back of my neck.  He was nipping me hard with his teeth and I whimpered a little.  He grunted a response and pulled me back against him, letting me feel the shockingly hard arousal that was jutting into the back of my thigh.  He'd undressed before he picked me up and was naked.

What started as a sigh ended up a strangled moan as he sank his teeth into my neck, pushing me over onto my front as he mounted me from behind.  I let him move me however he wanted me, not resisting, knowing it would be pointless to try to intervene - I knew he'd seen the wolves, and there would be no switching him off or distracting him until he was done.

Just the feel of him on me, his weight pushing me down into the soft blankets and his big hands gripping my waist as he pushed into me, it was all instantly arousing and he slipped in without resistance, pushing my left leg up with his so that my knee was tucked up under me.  He thrust into me several times, grunting quietly against my ear, and I knew by the urgency in his breathing and the way his fingers dug into my skin that this wasn't going to be enough for him.  So it came as no surprise when he grabbed my hips and pulled me up onto my hands and knees, arching himself over my back, on his own hands and knees around me.

"Make it hurt, baby," he whispered harshly against my shoulder, reaching around to press the back of his wrist to my mouth.  Without thinking, I bit him, hard.

 

To say he fucked me with complete abandon would be to sorely understate what happened next.  But there really are no words to properly describe it, the completely reckless, primal, _wild_ manner in which he took me, endlessly, until we were both limp and breathless and panting for air.  The fire went out long before we finished but we didn't care - we'd thrown the blankets off long ago, our bodies slicked with sweat and saliva and come, our skin glistening in the silver moonlight from the window over the bed.  I don't know how many times I either groaned or screamed Tom's name...I lost count or memory, possibly both, but I do remember him whispering for me to take it, pushing his fingers into my mouth to give me something to bite, to ground myself, to gather my bearings and keep going.  He was insatiable and he dragged me along with him until I screamed and he cried out and the wolves, far away in the hills above us, howled along with us.

 

I woke the next morning, sore and worn out and aching all over with that delicious morning-after pain that lets you know you had a really good time.  The bed was empty but I could hear Tom outside, stacking firewood beside the door.  I snuggled into his pillow, inhaling his scent, smiling happily even though my whole body hurt.

I heard the door open and peeked with one eye;  Tom stuck his head in and grinned at me.

"Come here baby, look at this."

I sat up and wrapped the blanket around me, staggering across the cold floor to the door where Tom was standing, smiling broadly.  Something had him happier than I'd seen him in ages, and when I peered outside, squinting against the bright sunlight on the freshly fallen snow, I knew immediately what it was.

There were wolf tracks, right up to the door.

 

"Do you think they heard us and were curious?"

"I'm fairly certain they heard _you,"_   he replied with a wicked grin.  "People down in San Bernardino probably heard you."

"Be quiet."  I kicked some snow at him and he just smiled, turning his face up to the sun.  He looked so content...so happy.  But there was something else, too - something restless under the contentment, an intense curiosity that I knew wasn't going to be quelled without indulgence.  I turned to go back into the cabin, certain I'd smelled coffee brewing.  "I know you want to track them," I said, shaking the snow off my blanket as I pushed the door shut between us.  "Go ahead.  Just be careful."

He turned and looked at me as the door closed, and for a moment I doubted he would even say another word before taking off into the woods.  But he pushed the door open as I was pouring myself a cup of coffee and stared at me until I glanced at him.

"Are you sure?" he asked hopefully, his face anxious.  I almost laughed, he looked so much like a little boy asking if he could ride his bike to the arcade.

"Go.  They left good tracks, right?  You should be able to follow them.  Just please be careful, okay?  Promise me?"

He broke into a wide grin, the excitement obvious in his bright eyes.  He stepped inside and hugged me tight, pulling me up against him till my feet came off the floor and I fussed at him to put me down.  He kissed me, then turned and was gone before I could say another word.

 

"Did you find them?"

He nodded, grinning;  the excitement was shining in his eyes.  There was ice in his hair and his cheeks were red, but he was ridiculously thrilled.

"They're just over that ridge, above the mine.  They've got a den.  They're getting ready for pups."

I filled his plate with the lunch I'd cooked and set it in front of him, watching happily as he started eating.  "Did you see them?"

"I saw her.  She's very pregnant."

"Are you going to go again and try to see the male?"

"No, no - "  He shook his head, taking the cup of coffee I offered him.  "I've invaded their territory once, that's enough.  His tracks are huge though - he's a monster.  Not sure I'd want him to catch me anywhere near his den or his mate."  He downed the coffee and then stood up, stripping out of his shirt while I watched;  his muscles rippled and I realized, again, for probably the thousandth time how perfectly he was built.  Long and lean and muscled and so _so_ strong...I felt a little twinge and looked away.  He caught me and froze.

"What?"

A warm flush crept up my neck and I knew he could see it.  "Nothing, I just - "

"You just what?"  There was the slightest touch of a grin showing at the corners of his mouth and I knew he was teasing me.

"I just..."

He unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them, standing naked before me like a freshly carved Michelangelo with tattoos.  Everything in me went south and I slapped my hands over my face, hiding my eyes while he laughed.

"Silly girl.  I'm going for a dip in the creek, you want to join me?"

"What?  Oh hell no, it's like forty below, isn't it?"

"If it was forty below the water would be frozen."

I made a face at him but he'd already headed out the door and was on his way down the snowy embankment, completely naked.

"You're crazy, Heyworth.  Your penis is going to snap off and then I won't like you anymore."

"You've already married me," he shouted over his shoulder as he waded in, his whole body shivering.  "You're stuck with me, snapped penis or no."

I watched in shock from the porch as he jumped in, going completely under for a few seconds before his head popped above the surface with an exhilarated _"Fucking hell!"_

"Told you it's forty below."

"I think you're right, girly."  He held one hand out of the water.  "Come join me."

"Absolutely not.  I'm not risking a seizure for an ice bath."

He rubbed his face and shot me a cockeyed wink as he climbed back out, his skin an interesting tinge of pale blue.  I couldn't keep my eyes from roaming down to see how the cold water affected him - and was shocked to see it hadn't really affected him at all.

"How is that even possible?" I whined, backing away toward the cabin door.  "It's bigger than it was when you went in."

He grinned, shaking off like a dog, hair flying.  I squealed and ran inside to keep from getting sprayed but he followed me in, grabbing me before I could get away.

"We haven't fucked on this rug yet," he growled, dragging me to the floor in front of the fireplace.  "If we're going to have pups of our own, we're going to have to get in some practice, you know."  He rolled over onto his back and patted his bare stomach, letting me settle in on top of him as he grinned up at me.  "Mating season is coming, I need to get my little bitch broken in if I'm going to breed her."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	39. Chapter 39

 

 

On the last night of our honeymoon, I woke up to find myself alone in the bed.  The fire had been stoked up so that it was blazing but Tom wasn't in the cabin;  I wrapped up in the blanket and shuffled to the door, edging it open just enough to stick my head out.

He was sitting on the picnic table, staring up at the moon.

I wasn't going to disturb him - him and the moon, they had this thing sometimes, and I wasn't interested in coming between them when they got weird together like this.  But he was smoking, which was something he only ever did when he was genuinely worried.  I'd only ever seen him with a cigarette in his mouth twice, ever...both times before we got together.

I was afraid to find out why.  I pulled my head back in and was closing the door when he blew a succession of smoke rings into the air, made all the more impressive by the chill smoke of his breath turning to fog in the cold and swirling around his face.

"What you up to, girly?"

I winced, though I didn't know why it surprised me that he knew I was there.  I'd never been able to sneak up on him and I'd never heard of anyone else being successful at it either.  "I was going to ask the same of you."

He turned his head to look at me and all I could do was stand there, staring at him.  In the moonlight like that, he didn't even look human.  Just...ethereal, otherworldly, like some dark angel banished to the earthly realm for some mistaken sin, all tragically beautiful and sad and slightly wicked.  The smoke billowing from his mouth and nose added a chilling aspect to it and I couldn't stop myself imagining a set of jet black wings, ragged and damaged and as dark and shiny as his hair, sprouting from his back.

"Come here."

I did as I was told, tugging the blanket tight around me as I slipped on the boots that were sitting by the door.  It had rained earlier that night and the snow was crunchy, with a thin layer of ice frozen on the surface.  Tom put his cigarette out and held his hand out to me and I made my way clumsily to the table, climbing up to sit next to him as he pulled me up and settled me in close, arm going around my shoulders to wrap himself around me and keep me warm.

We sat like that for a while, not talking.  I looked up at the moon to see what he was looking at, but it didn't seem interested in communicating with me the way it did with him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was very quiet and controlled.

"Do you really want a baby, Anja?"

I sighed and snuggled in closer under his arm.  I could smell his skin through his shirt and it comforted me, made me feel safe.

"I don't know.  Yeah."  Turning my face up to his, nuzzling my nose into his scratchy whiskers, I could almost hear his heart beating, strong and steady through the pulsepoint in his neck.  "Do you?"

He exhaled heavily, but it wasn't a sigh.  It was more like a decision being made, wordlessly, expressing itself through his lungs instead of his voice, like his soul was answering without consulting his conscious self.

"Yeah.  I think I do."  He turned his face to mine and pressed a kiss to my eyelid.  "I do.  I want to get you pregnant and watch you get fat and obsess over whether you're eating enough or sleeping properly, all that.  But I'm scared."

Those words took me completely by surprise and it was a sudden, jolting type of surprise, almost like being hit.  I'd never heard him say he was scared, of anything, ever.  I'd never really thought of the possibility that he _could_ be scared of anything.  It left me speechless and I didn't know what I would say if I could.

He was sitting there rocking me gently, not staring at the moon anymore;  his eyes were looking out across the creek, but I didn't think he was really seeing anything.  It was disconcerting and a bit worrisome and I finally whimpered that I was cold, just to get him to do something.

He looked down at me like he was noticing I was there for the first time.  I reached up and touched his face and felt my heart clutch up when he furrowed his brow - it looked every bit like despair and I choked back the tremor in my voice when I spoke.

"What are you scared of, baby?"

He just looked at me for a long time, his face lit on one side by the silvery glow of the moonlight shining off the snow, the other side left in shadow.

"Of everything that could happen."

"Like what?  What could happen?"  I wasn't sure what he was talking about and I wanted to understand what could make him act like this.  This wasn't him, at all.  He shook his head.

"So much, girly.  You're not well yet.  What if you're too sick with morning sickness to keep your meds down?  What if your meds pose a risk to the baby and you can't take them at all?  What'll happen when you have seizures while you're pregnant?"  He lowered his head for a moment, running his hands through his hair roughly, squeezing his head with a frustrated groan.  "I can't...I can't lose you, there's no acceptable amount of risk that I'm willing to take with you."  He raised his head again and the look on his face, what I could see of it, was deeply pained.  "But I know you want this.  So I'm going to make a deal with you."  

He stared at me for a long time and I finally realized he was waiting for me to agree.

"Alright.  Make your deal."

He took a deep breath, holding it for a long time before he let it out slowly.  "You do everything your doctor says, I don't care what it is.  If he says you stay in bed for the entire nine months, you do it."

I nodded.  "Agreed."

"If he says you have to take a certain kind of meds, you take them.  You never miss a dose.  You eat like you're supposed to and you sleep right.  If he says no sex, no sex.  You don't do anything risky, I don't care how minor it might seem.  You don't even step into the bathtub without me right there to make sure you don't slip."

I kept nodding to everything he said.  I wanted to argue with about half of it, but now wasn't the time - I could tell he really needed assurance that it would be okay, and this was how he got it, by convincing himself that he could control every aspect of the situation.  I could let him have this.

"And you do as I say, even if it sounds like I'm being stupid and obsessive."

"Okay."

"You don't defy me on anything, I don't care how minor.  I mean it Anja - I worry about you constantly as it is, I don't want you giving me reason to worry more."

"I won't."  His words were starting to really sink in now and I felt a bit confused.  "Why do you worry about me?"

"Because, baby, I almost let you die."  He stood up and lifted me down off the table, steadying me on the icy snow.  "I fucked up one time with Emma and she ended up nearly killing herself.  I fucked up one time with you and you got so sick you nearly died and it screwed you up.  All it takes with me is one fuck up to destroy somebody I love.  I can't do it again."

"Wait - what?  I'm screwed up?  Why would you say that?"

He frowned at me and I shivered, just as much from the realization that he felt this way as from the cold.  He shook his head and looked up at the blue-black sky, like the stars would help him out somehow. "Baby, I let your brain fry.  I left you alone with a fever and..."  His voice trailed off and I knew he didn't want to finish his sentence, but I wanted to hear him say it.

"Am I not the same person I was before?"

He looked at me, his face covered in shame.  It was hard to look at.

"Lets go inside."  He took me by the arm and started toward the cabin, but I pulled back and wouldn't move.

"No, I want you to answer me.  Am I not the same person?"

He turned and stared hard at me.

"You're still you, Anja.  And yes, you're the same, but - "

I felt my chin start to quiver and began actively trying not to cry, but it was coming and I knew I wasn't going to be able to stop it.  "But...?"

"Baby, I still love you exactly the same way I did.  Nothing changed between us.  If anything, I love you more because - "

"Because I need it more?"

He closed his eyes, sighing heavily.  His cold foggy breath swirled around his face and I thought for a moment that he looked like something from the mythology books, something carved of alabaster with a living soul inside it, trapped but still alive.

"I'm not going to have any more of this conversation with you out here, you're freezing.  Come with me inside.  Please."  He held his hand out again and this time I took it.

 

Once we were inside, I thought I would be able to stick to my resolve to finish what we'd started.  I wanted to hear the rest of what he had to say, but when I started talking, he started kissing me and it wasn't long before he had me on the floor in front of the fireplace, working his way under my clothes.

"But Tom," I whined, trying unsuccessfully to squirm out from under him.  "I want to know what you meant by that."

"Shhhh," he shushed me, kissing his way down my stomach.  "It doesn't matter, baby."

"It does matter," I protested.  "That hurt my feelings and I don't want to have to be mad at you all night.  Please finish it."  I grabbed his hair and tugged till he looked up.  "Please."

He looked genuinely contrite and I let go of his hair.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, sweetheart.  I'm sorry.  All I meant was...you're sick, and you might always be, and it's my fault.  I have to feel differently about you now because I can't just trust that you'll be okay, I can't just go to work and know that you'll be fine until I see you again.  I love you exactly the same way.  But you're not healthy like you were and that means I have to always worry if you're alright.  I can't just assume it anymore.  And it's because I was stupid and thought you'd be okay when you weren't."  His face was pleading and I knew he wanted desperately for me to understand, but the words just weren't working right.  "You're exactly the same as you were with the exception of - hell, I don't even know how to say it.  And now that I'm thinking about it, I'm starting to think it's not you, it's me.  I'm the one it changed."

I struggled to understand, but I could tell he felt as stupid and confused as I did.  But I couldn't leave it, so I took a stab at it in the hopes of putting it to rest before one of us got mad.

"So...you don't feel differently _about_ me, you feel differently _toward_ me.  You think you have to be more protective of me now."

"Yes."

I was so relieved I went limp under him and he moved over off me, settling on his back with his arm up over his face.  I tried to tug it away, but he wouldn't let me budge it.  "You should never forgive me for what I did to you, Anja," he said quietly.

"What?"

He shook his head, going silent.

"Look at me," I said, letting my rising temper show in my voice.  I rarely ever showed anger to Tom, but he was pissing me off now and I didn't feel any need to hide it. _"Look at me!"_

He did as he was told, looking me straight in the eyes.  His face was curiously blank and I knew he'd already gone to that place where he hid to cope with things that he felt better dealing with later.  I took his face in my hands and held it so that he couldn't look away.

"Do I look sick to you?  Do I look like I'm not okay?  Is there anything about me that seems different than before?"

He stared without responding for a long moment before finally shaking his head, just slightly.

"Then what, Tom?  What is it that makes you sad about me?  If I'm not different, why do you feel different toward me?"

"You're damaged.  I hurt you with my negligence. _I damaged you."_

"Well, baby, you're pretty damaged yourself and you've been that way since long before I ever met you, but I don't look at that, do I?  I look at you. _You._  Not what happened to you, not at what it did to you, not at the marks it left on you. _Just you."_

"But you didn't inflict my damage.  I did inflict yours."

Now I knew, and it was a hard thing to accept.  Knowing he blamed himself every day for me getting sick, beat himself up mentally and emotionally every time he saw me forget something or had to tie my shoes for me, was gutting.  Every time I got frustrated because I had to relearn the TV remote or couldn't remember the channel I liked on the radio...he had to deal with an emotional punch in the gut each and every time.

"You don't know that.  It was probably going to happen no matter what, Tom.  It's not your fault, it's nobody's fault.  Maybe it's mine - I knew I wasn't feeling good but I never went to the doctor, did I?  I'm a grown ass woman, I should have taken a day off and went _days_ before it got that bad.  How is that your fault?"

He didn't answer, which irritated the hell out of me - but I tried hard to control my anger, because I knew he was hurting.

"Let me tell you something you probably don't know.  Remember Sam?"

His head jerked slightly, eyes going wide before his face shifted to a look of sadness.

"Of course I remember Sam.  He was a good friend."

"Yeah, more so to me.  And after his funeral, do you remember what I did?"

"Nobody saw you for a while."

"Do you know why?"

Again he didn't respond, just looked at me for a long time.

"I sat in my bedroom staring at my wedding dress for days, wondering why I had let him go to work that day.  He had a headache, you remember those migraines he used to get?  And instead of insisting that he stay home until he felt better, I let him go because he said he was okay, and he was hit at the intersection on 35th and didn't ever come home.  I could have prevented that from happening, it would have been such an easy thing to stop.  But I didn't."

"Baby, that wasn't your fault - "

"Oh?  Sort of like, what happened to me wasn't yours?"

He sighed, then finally nodded, understanding what I was saying.

"Okay," he said after a long while.

 

Eventually we made love, whispering to each other that we were sorry.  I knew he was overthinking the whole baby thing, worrying more than he needed to.  I knew he felt responsible for me and that the potential risks involved with me getting pregnant were stressing him.  At some point I told him I'd changed my mind, that I didn't want to create any issues between us where there didn't need to be, but he gave me a stern look and told me to be quiet.  I started to protest, but he kissed me, and after that it just didn't matter anymore.

 

We were still on the rug in front of the fireplace hours later.  Tom had gotten up long enough to make us a sandwich and was sitting against the sofa eating, with me laying back in his arms.

"Was it like this with you and Sam?"

My heart skipped a little and I think he felt it, because he immediately tightened his embrace and ran his hand up into my hair, holding my head still as he kissed it.  He'd never asked me about Sam, never even mentioned him once in all the time we'd been together.  No one had.  But I had brought him up, and now it only seemed right that we get him out into the open between us.

"Sam and I had a very - _vanilla_ \- relationship," I said turning to slide my arms around his middle and cuddle closer to him.  "Very much  _not_  like this one."

Tom continued playing with my hair, tangling his fingers in it as he massaged my scalp.  "I'm sorry about what happened to him.  He was a good guy.  We all liked him."

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.  Sam was a soft spot for me - not a sore spot, but definitely soft, and maybe just a little bit touchy when poked.  But nobody poked, and hearing Tom say his name, even though we'd talked about him earlier, was more of a shock than I expected it to be.  I hadn't even thought of him in so long before that night.  He had been my heart, but he wasn't my soulmate, and I knew it.  But it was okay...I loved him, and he loved me, and it was pure and sweet and good and it was going to be a nice way to spend the rest of our lives, until the rest of his life was suddenly over.  I got the call at work and that was that.  And just like that, my wedding dress went into the attic and my ring into the jewelry box, I changed jobs and started spending more time with the gang.  I remember at one point Tom sending Ewan over to my house with some soup and coffee...after the funeral I had wandered around blankly for so long, but for some reason I was able to find my way to the pub to thank him and tell him the coffee was perfect.

He'd made it for me, exactly the same way, nearly every day since.

Almost two years to the day later, I realized _he_ was my soulmate.

 

I squeezed him tight and burrowed my head in against his chest, trying to get closer to his heart so I could hear it beating.  His long arms wrapped around me and I felt him breathing against the top of my head. It was soothing, and in that moment I knew there was no place else I wanted to be - just with him, wherever he might be.  He kissed my head and inhaled deeply, whispering softly into my hair.

"I love you, Anja.  No matter what...I love you."

"I love you too," I whispered back.

And then he was holding my face, kissing me with so much desperation and need that it took my breath away and I struggled to breathe in between those kisses, letting him lay me down again, submitting to him completely as I stretched out under him and whimpered at the bruising urgency of his mouth on mine.  

_"Don't leave me,"_ he whispered harshly, his voice agonized and pleading against my skin. _"Don't ever leave me."_

 

The next morning we stopped in the township on our way out of Big Bear to get gas and eat.  The man who ran the little store was American Indian and he and Tom started talking about their respective tribes and where they were from.  When Tom said he was Saskatchewan Cree, the man gave him a surprised look and pulled out a big guest book from under the counter.

"I've only ever met one other Sask Cree in my life and dude, he looked just like you.  You guys are kinda rare - you got any relatives around here?"

Tom shook his head and I thought for just a moment that he seemed suddenly worried.  "No, none."

"Well, this guy was in here maybe a year ago?  And I swear to you, he was you, just older."  He was flipping through the pages of the book and I moved up to stand next to Tom, taking his hand, noticing how it was shaking a little.  I squeezed his fingers and rubbed his arm, wondering if I should fake feeling sick to get him out of there.  

"Here it is, yeah - this dude's name was Adam, I remember that because I thought it was a weird name for a Cree."  He turned the book around on the countertop and slid it across to Tom, pointing to a name halfway down the page.  "Adam Heyworth.  Said he was from Detroit."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	40. Chapter 40

 

 

We didn't talk much, coming down off the mountain into San Bernardino.  Tom's face bore an expression stuck somewhere between blank disbelief and a scowl, but once we were in the city and stopped so I could pee at a gas station, he seemed to brighten back up suddenly.  I asked him what was up as he was tucking his phone back into his pocket.

"I talked to Cara."

"She and Kady doing okay?"

"Yeah, they're good.  Do you still have that card from the store in Big Bear?"

I dug it out of my purse and handed it to him.  The guy had told Tom to call him if he wanted an address and phone number to go with the name from the guest register;  the owner rented rooms at the inn next door to the store and they kept guest information on record for a year.  The clerk said we were lucky they hadn't purged last year's records yet, and offered to look it up for him if he wanted it.

Tom had said no, but I knew he saw me take a business card from the counter as we were leaving.  When I handed it to him, I figured he was going to tear it up, but he just looked at it and told me to go back to the car.  "It's cold, I don't want you in this wind.  I'll be there in a few minutes."

I obeyed, wrapping up in my blanket once I was settled in, watching him through the window.  He stood there for a long time, black hair blowing in the wind, looking like one of those noir cologne ads for men.  I giggled a little and kept watching till he leaned back against the building and started dialing the number from the card.

 

When he got back into the car a few minutes later, he got a pen from my bag and wrote down a phone number.

"Is that what I think it is?"

He nodded.

"Are you going to call him?"

"Not right now.  Maybe later, I haven't decided yet."

I hugged his arm as he was reaching across me to put my pen back.  "I hope you do."

"Why?"

"I don't know."  I really didn't know, but something told me it might be a good thing, and I wanted something good for him.  He'd said his father loved him, maybe they could finally be in each other's lives again, somehow.  It just felt like something that should happen.

He stroked my face for a second and smiled at me, that almost fatherly indulgent smile that he'd been using on me ever since I got home from the hospital.  He used it every time I got frustrated or forgot my coat and every time he had to kneel down to tie my shoes.  Why he was using it on me now was unclear, but I just hugged his arm tighter until he leaned over and kissed me.

"Then I will," he finally said, rubbing the back of my head with his fingers.  I noticed before he sat back up that he was sniffing me, but I assumed he was just calming himself and didn't ask about it.

We were a few miles down the road, both of us silent, listening to the radio, when I finally couldn't stand it anymore.  I needed to know about his dad and I knew he wasn't about to volunteer any information without me insisting that I wanted it - it was how he operated, keeping all his secrets to himself until you asked for them, and then he would act like they were never secrets to begin with.  So I gave in and asked.

"What's he like?"

He looked over at me, throwing me a sideways stare that ordinarily would have made me nervous, but this time all it did was make me more determined to get him to open up.  I stared back.

When he finally answered, his voice sounded so matter-of-fact that he might as well have been placing a beer order with his supplier.  "I have no idea.  It's been nearly twenty years, I was a little kid the last time I saw him."  He switched off the radio.  "I know what he was like back then, but he could be an entirely different person now."

"Did you even know he was alive?"

He shook his head, staring at the road ahead.  He went silent again and it was so long before he spoke that I almost fell asleep. 

"We had a corgi puppy.  It was the first thing we got after we moved to America, dad thought it might help us to not miss home so much."

I sat up, excited and intensely interested.

"What happened to it?"

"Nothing happened to it, so far as I know.  It was still there when I left.  Though I suppose it wasn't a puppy anymore...it was small so I always just thought of it as a puppy.  Actually I think it must have been quite an old dog, we had it for a long time and it never grew."

He fell silent again;  it was becoming obvious that I was going to have to nudge him every few seconds to keep him going.  But I wasn't really all that interested in the dog, even though it was a sweet detail of his childhood that made him seem just a little bit more human to me.  What I really wanted was the dad stuff.  I waited a little longer, then gave him another verbal nudge.

"Why did he leave?"

"I don't know.  He was afraid of something."

"Of what?"

"I really have no idea.  But sometimes when he looked at me, there was so much fear in his eyes."  He huffed out a long breath and raked his hand through his hair.  "He used to go outside at night, lay up on the roof of the house and stare at the moon like he missed it."

 _Like you were doing last night,_ I thought.  But I didn't say it, because I wasn't entirely sure he even knew that he'd been doing it.  "Missed it?"

"Yeah."  He laughed a little.  "Weird, huh?  But that's what it seemed like.  Like when you have a relationship with someone and you gradually grow apart...you miss them even though they're still there, you still see them.  But it's just not the same anymore.  That was what he looked like."

I sat quietly, not wanting to interrupt now that he was talking.

"Sometimes I'd crawl out the attic window and sit with him.  You could hear the wolves, coyotes, whatever, howling in the hills.  I asked him if he was afraid of them and he said no, those are our people.  Don't be scared of them.  They're just keeping an eye on us, letting us know they're there...when you hear them, it should make you feel safe.  I didn't know what he was talking about, I didn't know he and I were any different from mum and everybody else."  He went quiet for a minute and I watched him chew his lip, like he was thinking.  "After he was gone I found his pictures, of his people...they all looked like me.  I never realized until then that we were kinda different, I'd always thought we were just plain old white folks like everybody else.  I asked mum and she told me, but it was almost like she'd wished I hadn't figured it out."

 _"Plain old white folks?_   Did you seriously just say that?"

He laughed a little and reached out to poke my cheek with his finger.  "White folks.  You're not even peach, you're pretty damn white."

I grabbed his hand and held it still while I bit his finger.  "You're fairly pale yourself.  You don't identify as white?  What about indian?"

"Baby I don't even identify as human."

"But Cree...?"

"I wasn't raised knowing about it.  During my identity-forming years I was just...nothing in particular, really.  I had the light skin of my mom and the face of my dad.  Sort of a walking anomaly."

I thought about it for a while, sitting quietly, looking out the window.  He reached across and took my hand, giving it a squeeze.  

"Are you going to ask him?"

"Ask him why he left?  Hell I don't know, Anja...doesn't really seem like the sort of thing one asks someone they haven't seen in twenty years."

"It seems exactly like the sort of thing you ask!  Why wouldn't you?  You hate him because everything went to hell after he left and - "

"Hey, hey, stop it," he said quietly, looking worriedly over at me.  "What's the matter with you?  I never said I hated him.  I know he had his reasons, whatever they were.  But yes, everything fell apart after he left us...when my stepdad came into the picture, that's when it all went bad."  A frown had come to his face, darkening his expression, but he kept it away from me by not looking at me again.

He turned the radio back on and I knew the conversation was over.  But I'd managed to squeeze a few details out of him, and even though they weren't nearly as enlightening or satisfying as I'd hoped for, he'd given them to me and it felt like a gift.  I knew to be grateful for it.  I tugged his hand up to my face and nuzzled it, tucking it against my neck as I settled down in my seat to take a nap.  We were almost home...I couldn't wait to wake up to him unbuckling my seatbelt and telling me _we're here, baby._

About an hour later, I did.

 

Life went back to normal, with the exception of me spending a lot more time at the pub in a boss capacity, which Ewan and Chris gave me no end of ribbing about - but I enjoyed it, and even though all three guys kept a casual eye on me to make sure I didn't zone out or forget how to use the stove in the middle of cooking something, I found this simpler daily routine suited me.  I was happy and I was able to be around Tom all day, every day...I'd never felt safer and more content in my entire life.

 

On our third night back a couple came in and sat near the window;  when I returned from taking their order Tom's head whipped around, a scowl of concentration furrowing his brow as he sniffed around me.

"Stop it, nobody touched me."

He shook his head, tilting his face up to sniff the air.  "No, it's not you."  He closed his eyes and leaned closer to me again.  "Where were you just now?"

I pointed in the general direction of the window.

"Who did you get closest to?  Which woman?"

"How do you know it was a woman?"

"Women have certain scents that men don't.  Which one was it?"

"I don't remember, I went to like six tables."  I groaned, stepping in front of him to get his attention.  "Please don't tell some stranger they're about to get their period, okay?  That really freaks people out and it's not polite."

He glanced down at me, but I knew he hadn't heard me.  Before I could protest further, he'd stepped around me and headed for the couple by the window.

Chris moved over next to me and with a grin and a nod of his head, said, "Come here, watch this."  He motioned for me to follow him and we went to a nearby table to pretend we were moving the chairs - it was close enough that we could hear the conversation at the table where Tom was standing.  I could see he had already zeroed in on the woman.

"Your drinks will be out in a moment," he was telling the man seated across from her;  then he turned to the woman and leaned in a little, lowering his voice.  "Might I suggest you change your order to something with more juice and less alcohol?"

The woman stared at him, obviously unsure what he meant, and a moment later her date decided to take offense to Tom's advice.

"Excuse me, what?  She's over twenty-one."

Tom turned to him, smiling indulgently, but I could see the irritation in his eyes - he knew this guy was going to give him shit and he had zero patience for people who wanted to argue with his nose.  "I can't serve her alcohol mate, I'm sorry.  But I'll be happy to bring her anything else she likes."

The woman just stared at him, but the man decided to be an ass and stood up.  He was tall, but not near as tall as Tom, and the two stood with eyes locked for a moment before Tom headed the oncoming protest off before it even got started properly.

"I'm not serving her alcohol," he said with finality.  "She's pregnant and shouldn't be drinking.  You can take her somewhere else if you like, but your best option would be to take her to Baskin Robbins and forego the bars for a while."

 _"Whoops there it is!"_   Chris snickered, tapping me on the shoulder with a big grin.  "Watch their faces."

The man's expression went instantly to surprise as he looked past Tom at his date.  The woman just sat there looking confused, and I knew what must be going on in her head by the look on her face - she was doing the math, and slowly coming to the realization that this bartender might be right.  But the man quickly recovered and stepped closer to Tom, chest puffed out to make himself seem more threatening.

"And how would you know that?"

Tom just turned away, unimpressed by the posturing;  but the man was angry now and reached out to grab him by the shoulder.

"Oh shit," Chris muttered, stepping back and pulling me back with him.

"Why aren't you - "  I was about to say _Why aren't you going to help?_  but the answer became obvious before I could even get it out.  Tom reached up and grabbed the man's wrist from his shoulder, turning back around at the same time so that the guy's arm twisted and he went to his knees so quickly that nobody even realized what was happening for a moment.  When everyone's brains finally caught up, there was a collective gasp from most of the room.

Tom looked down at him, his face completely blank.  "You don't want to do that," he said evenly, the lack of emotion in his voice radiating more menace than if he'd been yelling.  "Now I suggest you take your woman and go, since you don't seem open to my first suggestion."  He let go, stared at the man for another long moment as he got up off the floor, then turned and walked back to the bar without another word.

The woman grabbed her purse and left, leaving her date standing there looking like a fool.

Still chuckling, Chris sidled up to him and asked if he still wanted his beer.  The man just looked at him, then glanced angrily over at Tom, who was going about his business behind the bar like nothing had happened.  Without another word, he retrieved his jacket from the back of his chair and walked out.

 

"That was...interesting," I said when I returned to the bar.  Tom just looked up at me for a second and went back to drawing beers.  "So when I get pregnant you'll know before I do, won't you."

He laughed a little, nodding to Ewan to come get the tray he'd just loaded.  "I'll probably know as soon as it happens," he said through a grin.  "Provided I'm paying attention, which I probably won't be."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll have just blown my load and my brain won't be back in my head yet."

Ewan snorted as he walked by and Chris, who had just come up beside me, tossed a raised eyebrow at both of us.

"You guys gonna procreate?"

Tom looked over at me again, not answering.  I decided not to reply either and instead dropped my towel on the bar and turned to head to the back room.  I suddenly had a headache and a little nap seemed like a really good idea.

 

It seemed like I'd only been asleep for a few seconds when I woke up to Tom's face, close to mine.  He was rubbing my temples with his fingers and talking to me quietly.  My body felt sore, like I'd been running or lifting weights, and there was a metallic taste of blood in my mouth.  I groaned and looked up at him.

"Did I do it again?"

"Yes baby, you did.  I'm going to take you home now, okay?"

"No, I don't want to be by myself."

"You won't be honey, Cara will be there."

I struggled to sit up, but seizures, even mild ones, always left me so drained I could hardly move.  Tom let me try but kept his hands on my shoulders to give me a little help.

"I don't want her to have to babysit me," I whined.  "I want to stay with you."

"Baby, you don't need to be here if you're not feeling well."

I felt my chin start to quiver and was mad at myself for not being able to keep the tears at bay...I could feel them coming and knew it would get very pitiful very quickly.  But I couldn't help it.   _"Please Tom,_ I don't want to be alone!  The last time you left me alone I got so sick."  I was crying now, pleading with him, desperate to have him let me stay.  His face fell and it was obvious my words had stabbed him deep, but he nodded and rubbed his hands up and down on my arms.  After a long moment he finally spoke, and though his voice was carefully measured, I could hear the broken heart behind it.

"You're right.  You can stay here with me."

 

We stayed in the back room for a while.  He had Ewan bring me some food and I ate, then rested a little longer till I felt better.  We watched some TV, but he didn't talk much and every time I looked at him I felt like I'd hurt him.  I knew I had.  When I couldn't take his silence and blank face any longer, I scooted over onto his lap and curled up against him.

"I'm sorry...I shouldn't have said that."

"Of course you should have.  It's true."

"No, it wasn't your fault - "

He sighed and rubbed my head.  "We've been through that already.  Okay, no fault.  But it's still true, I left you alone and you got sick."  He kissed me on the top of my head and I could feel him inhaling deeply.  "I can't blame you for being scared that it'll happen again."

I snuggled closer to him and his arms went around me, hugging me tight.  "I love you, wolfman," I whispered against his tee shirt.

"I love you too, bitch pudding," he whispered back.

 

We came out a little while later and I was on my way into the kitchen with my dishes when what appeared to be two college guys stepped up in front of me.  The one closest actually took a step forward to bump into me on purpose and I looked around quickly, hoping Tom hadn't seen.  I had put him into a bad mood and he'd already had one confrontation with a customer tonight, he didn't need another.

"Excuse me, sorry," I said politely as I stepped around them, deciding it best to just avoid the situation entirely.  As I walked away I heard the bigger one say, "That thing's got an ass on it, go get it!"

I barely had time to count to three before I heard Tom reply,  _"Oh no you fucking don't."_  

My first impulse was to yell _RUN!!_ at the two guys.  Chris had the same idea and opened the front door, whistling to get their attention, waving them out.  But Tom was already headed straight for them, and they hadn't seen him yet because they were still looking at me, leering and making lewd remarks.  I turned around and got between them and Tom just as he reached punching distance, shoving my hands up against his chest and pushing as hard as I could.  He stopped instantly to avoid knocking me down.

"Look, I know you've had too much to drink and you probably meant no harm," I shouted over my shoulder at the guys, who had now realized they were in the sights of a very angry, very tall, very scary looking man with only a small female to stop him, "but you have about five seconds before I can't hold him back anymore and  _he will kill you._   You really should start thinking about leaving."

Chris banged the door to get their attention and pointed outside.  "Come on frat boys.  You don't do that shit in here."

I held Tom's face in my hands, standing on my tiptoes to reach, trying to pull his attention to me and off the two guys.  They were taking their time leaving, still mouthing off, and it was about to be too late for me to save them; Tom's eyes held a glint of murderous rage and if I lost him for even a second they were doomed.  But he was still just standing there, and I knew he must be waiting for them to give him a reason to push past me.

"Baby, look at me," I urged him, tapping his cheek with my palm.  I remembered trying to pull him off the stranger in New Mexico and decided to do the same thing I'd done there.  "Look at me, stop looking at them.  Tom?"

He finally pulled his eyes down to mine and it was almost as if he'd vacated, leaving someone I didn't recognize to deal with the situation.  It was chilling and I wondered if this was the part of him that made the decision to kill his stepdad.

"Come on babe, lets just move away, okay?  Let it go."

He didn't respond and the next thing I heard was Ewan cursing loudly in Scottish Gaelic and several people at the bar banging their bottles and yelling for them to get out.  Chris had taken the baseball bat down off the wall and was coming toward us with a look of _alright, you asked for it_ on his face.  I looked at the two idiots over my shoulder again and shook my head.

"Are you assholes still here?  I'm letting go of him, and everybody in here will back us when we say you had it coming.  Keep in mind while making your decision that you won't just be dealing with _him,_ but that guy behind you and the one to your right and probably a dozen or so of the customers who are getting bored with your stupidity and I have PMS that makes me worse than _any_ of them."  

They had stopped mouthing off and were standing there looking at me like they didn't know if they should laugh at me or obey me.  But one of them had just noticed that they were indeed surrounded by some fairly tough looking men with seriously angry faces.

But they still weren't leaving.

"So  _go!"_ I finally yelled.

One of them muttered "Come on," before giving me a snide look and muttering _"Cunt,"_ as he led his buddy toward the door.  Tom literally snarled, his whole body tensing and his eyes going black with rage, but Ewan stepped up and put himself next to us.  He was tall enough to break Tom's eye contact with his potential victims and he didn't seem scared of him.

"Come on boss," he said quietly, holding his stare.  "Dial it down, they're going."

The door slammed shut and I turned around to see Chris putting the bat back on the wall;  the guys were gone, I could see them through the window as they staggered off down the sidewalk, still shouting crude names at us through the glass as they passed.  Tom's eyes were on them but he was no longer tightly coiled like a snake waiting to strike and I took my hands off him, sighing with relief as I turned to walk away. Twice in one night - I shook my head, wondering if there was a full moon high tide waxing wanker planetary atmospheric thing that was making people act like fools.  And something was certainly making Tom unrelentingly protective.

When I got behind the bar I heard Chris asking him if he was alright.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice so deep and menacing that it sent a shiver through me - in a not completely bad way.  I watched him and Chris do that shoulder-clasp thing that men do with each other to express friendship, but Tom's eyes came straight to me.  

"Nobody talks to the future mother of my pups that way."

 

_To be continued..._


	41. Chapter 41

 

My appointment with the neurologist went well, for the most part.  Tom took the day off to go with me;  Cara was still staying with us and had enrolled in a zoology course that had her doing a hands-on internship project in a veterinarian clinic, so to keep me from taking the bus, Tom insisted on taking me himself.  I could drive, but he didn't like me to, especially not alone.  I made him promise to behave, but no sooner had we sat down in the waiting room than he started sniffing every woman that walked past us.

"Oh god, please don't," I begged him.

"Don't what?  That one is ovulating."

"Don't _that._  Don't do that."

"I could provide a service.  Ovulation prediction.  Don't they sell kits in the drugstore for that?"

"Yes and it's far less creepy than having some weird guy in the waiting room do it without your permission.  You're invading these women's privacy."

"Am I?  Oh there's a pregnant one in here somewhere."  He tilted his head up and sniffed the air, eyes closed, and I scrunched down in my chair with a magazine in front of my face.  An elderly couple across from us were staring and Tom smiled at them.

"Don't do that either, they're going to call security."

"Why?"

"Because you're weird.  You look like a punk vampire and you're sniffing people.  You're even making _me_ nervous."

He leaned toward me and I put my magazine between us, but he reached under it and poked me in the ribs, hard enough to make me squeal and kick at him.  I was about to move to the other side of the room when my name was called and a nurse came out to escort us into the back...Tom sniffed her as he walked by and she gave me a confused look, her professional-grade smile cemented firmly in place but her eyes asking me _what the hell was that?_

"Sorry," I muttered as she pointed us down the hall, the door falling shut behind us.

 

The neurologist listened to my complaints about the meds he had me on, writing everything down as Tom described the seizures I'd been having.  Most of the time I just zoned out for a few seconds or my eye twitched when I got tired, but I'd had a couple of bigger ones that were concerning.

"We want to start a family," Tom said suddenly.  My head snapped up at the same time the doctor's did.

"Oh?  Well that has a direct effect on which meds I can switch you to - have you stopped taking your birth control yet?"

"No, she hasn't."  I shot him a look to get him to stop answering for me, but ended up just shaking my head when the doctor looked at me.

"Okay, well lets get your meds switched first, and then once we figure out your dosage and get you leveled out, you can start trying so long as your regular physician has cleared you."  He tore a sheet off his prescription pad and handed it to Tom.  "Call me if you have any problems with this, and I want to see you again in two weeks to see how it's treating you."  He gave me a smile and an almost fatherly pat on the knee.  "And good luck on the other stuff."

 

In the car, I sat with my arms crossed over my chest, pouting and staring out the window.  Tom kept looking at me and finally asked me what was wrong.

"He always hands you my papers, my prescriptions and stuff.  He talks to you instead of to me and you answer for me.  It makes me feel like I'm nine."

He didn't say anything for a minute, then dug the paper out of his pocket and handed it to me.  "I'm sorry," he said quietly when I snatched it away.  He didn't say anything else for a while, then he reached across and put his hand on the back of my neck, rubbing gently under my hair.  "He changed your meds to something safe for a baby though, that's good, right?  We just have to have your regular doc look you over and give us permission to do it."

I nodded, straightening the crumpled paper.  "Yeah."

He kept looking at me but I didn't feel like saying anything else.

"You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

"No...I'm just feeling sort of stupid and helpless."  I looked down at my shoes;  one was tied, the other was flapping loose.  "I wonder if it's such a good idea."

He pulled over at a strip mall and came around to open my door, unbuckling my seatbelt and pulling me out of the car by the hand, not roughly but a little more quickly than I was expecting.  I stumbled on his foot and dropped my purse, and he scowled a little but waited till I got my footing back.  "Come on," he said when I had myself straightened out, taking me by the hand and pulling me along behind him into the shoe store next to the Chinese buffet.

"Why are we here?  Can we get Chinese, I'm hungry."

"What size do you wear?"

"Shoes?  Seven, I think - but I don't need shoes."

"Yes you do."  He was dragging me down the aisles till we found the sevens, then finally let go of me and started looking through the racks of shoes.  I sat down on the little bench and waited.

"I don't want slip-ons, they're for babies that can't tie their own laces," I whined, mocking myself.  He laughed a little and tossed a box at my feet.

"You _are_ a baby that can't tie her own laces.  Try those on."

I looked down at the box and frowned.  "They're like yours."

"Yep."

"They have laces."

"Yep."

I kicked the box away.  "You're mean."

He kicked it back.  "Try them on Anja.  Or do I have to do that for you, too?"

I was about to tell him to fuck off, but he knelt down in front of me and pulled my shoe off, pushing my foot into one of the boots.  "There, now do it up."  I knew if I had to lace and tie them - there were like thirty holes - I was going to end up crying and the clerk would see everything, but Tom was looking at me earnestly, still on his knees in front of me, so I bent over with a frustrated sigh and saw that it was already tightly laced and tied.  I was confused for a second until I noticed the zipper up the side.

"Oh," was all I could say.  He was still looking at me and I could see just the tiniest bit of a smirk trying to break loose.  "Shut up," I said, smacking his shoulder as I pulled the zipper up.  It was a perfect fit.

He patted my knee and put the other boot on me, zipping it up and putting my shoes in the box as he stood up and held his hand out to me.  "Come on.  You want Chinese?"  I took his hand and followed him to the register, clutching the box with my old shoes against my chest.  "Do you want to ditch those?" he asked me as he paid for my boots, indicating the box.  I thought about it for a minute, then nodded and handed them to him.  He set the box on the counter and asked the clerk if she would take care of it.  Apparently she had been listening to our entire conversation, because she gave me a sympathetic little smile and said she'd be happy to.

 

Tom bought me Chinese and when we got back in the car, I put my feet up on the dash to admire my new boots.  "Thank you," I said once he got in, leaning over to kiss his cheek.  He smiled and licked my nose.

"I realized this morning that there's no reason for you to suffer over trying to relearn that mess.  Velcro and zippers exist for a reason."

I hadn't thought of that.  I was still struggling, pointlessly and fruitlessly, to master something I hadn't paid any real attention to since I was six years old.  It kept me in a ridiculous loop of self doubt and low self esteem, for no real reason at all.  I was tired of failing and Tom was tired of watching me fail.  He'd just decided he wasn't going to watch any more.

"I like zippers."

He looked over at me and smiled, and I realized that behind the black sunglasses was a guardian angel with a bad attitude that would spend the rest of his life looking out for me. 

 

My regular doctor gave me a clean bill of health and his approval to proceed, along with a prescription for prenatal vitamins to get me ready ahead of time.  I was sitting on the end of the table in my little paper gown when he wrote it out, but when he held it out to Tom, he didn't take it.  That unnerved me a little - was he having second thoughts?  But then I remembered the tantrum I'd thrown in the car after my last appointment about the doctors always talking to him instead of to me, and held out my hand for the scrip.

After he left, Tom came over to me and stood between my knees, tugging at my gown.  "Just one more thing to do," he whispered against my lips as he kissed me.

"We can't do that here, the nurse will be in in a few minutes," I protested, pushing against his chest.  " - they never even give me enough time to finish getting dressed before they're back - "

"Shhh...good grief Anja, I do think of other things besides sex from time to time.  And you probably should too."  He raised an eyebrow at me and smacked the side of my leg.  "Neurologist for the final adjustment of your dosage, remember?  You haven't had any seizures in two weeks, he should be happy about that."

I grinned stupidly and tugged him closer, sliding my arms around his middle, up under his shirt.  He was warm and I was chilled from being mostly naked in the cold exam room and I desperately wanted to feel his heartbeat for just a moment before I had to get dressed...he let me pull his shirt up and nuzzle my face into his chest, breathing his skin scent and feeling that strong, steady rhythm against my cheek.

 

When we got home, I started in trying to seduce him, but it ended up being not so much a seduction as a clumsy attempt to change what I knew was his already made up mind.

"Can we...do you think we could...go ahead and start?  I think my dosage is right, I feel fine and I'm not having any problems - "

He looked at me, one eyebrow raised, but before he could shoot me down with the _we need to wait_  argument that I knew was coming, I just kept rambling.

"I really think he's just going to say okay let's keep it at this dose, it's not even giving me headaches or anything so..."

He was still staring at me, but now there was a little grin starting to tug at his mouth.

"What?"

"You.  You're so cute."  He patted his knee and waited for me to settle on his lap, pulling me up close against him with his arms tight around me.  I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him as far away as I could, giving him the nastiest look I could muster.  He started to laugh.  "What?  You don't like being called cute?"

"Nobody likes being called cute unless they're five or a labrador puppy."

He pulled my hands off his shoulders and held them between us, against his chest, diving at my neck to bite me.  It was a hard nip with teeth and I tried to slap at him, but he had my wrists tight.

"It makes me so horny just looking at you, Anja," he murmured lustily against my throat. _"Such a pretty girl."_  He pulled his face away and looked at me again, his eyes darker this time.  "Do you like that better?"

I nodded and rubbed my nose against his, draping my arms around his neck as he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom.  We were in the process of packing up to move into my place, so he had to kick a couple of boxes out of the way before he could dump me on the bed and climb on top of me, settling between my legs with a sigh as he started kissing me.  He was such a good kisser...once his lips touched me I was a goner, it never failed to turn me into whatever he wanted me to be.  And it was always who _I_ wanted to be. 

 

He lay perfectly still on top of me, holding my hand on the pillow above my head, his fingers entwined with mine.

"What are you doing?" I finally asked, wriggling my nose where his hair was tickling it.

"Shhhh...I'm having an inner pep talk with my boys."

"You're what?"  I laughed, trying to shift under him but he held me still.  "What are you telling them?"

_"Get the job done, fellas...Bitch Pudding wants a baby and it's our job to give her one."_

I stared at him for a moment, not really comprehending the meaning of his words...how easily he had given in to my begging.  I had expected him to be the voice of reason, to talk me out of it, to remind me once again that we needed to wait for the doctor's final say, to guilt himself one more time over having made the wait necessary.  But he didn't...he was actually going to give me this without a fight.   _He wanted this._

"Pep talk's over.  Get undressed, baby."

He moved over off me and I just lay there for a second, watching him from behind as he pulled his shirt off over his head and dropped it on the floor.  My eyes were drawn down to his hip where there was an angry red patch of slightly swollen skin, showing just above the waist of his jeans.  "What happened?" I asked, reaching up to touch it.  He flinched a little and twisted around to look at where I was touching him.

"I had something added."

I looked closer, hooking my finger into the top of his jeans to tug them down a little.  His tattoo now stretched around further onto his back, and there was a second wolf...smaller, looking out from behind the big wolf that covered his hipbone.  I gasped when realization hit me.

"Is that - is that me?"

He was looking at me, the tiniest smile just barely curling his lips.  He didn't say anything, just watched me as I tugged at his jeans, wanting to see all of it.  He flinched again and I let go quickly.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...did you just have this done?  When?  Take them off, I want to see."

Without hesitation he stood up and unbuckled his jeans, dropping them to the floor;  I sat up on my knees behind him and put my hands on his hips, holding him still while I inspected the new ink.  There was more to it than just the addition of the female wolf.  "What's this?" I asked curiously, lightly touching three swirled spaces that looked like they were waiting to be filled.  "What's going to go there?"

He reached back and took my hand;  it obviously hurt every time I touched his skin but it excited me beyond belief that he had put a wolf version of me on his body.  But the empty spaces kept drawing my attention and I looked up at him, waiting for him to answer me.

"For our pups, when they come."

 

He reached down and put his finger under my chin, pushing my mouth shut.  I hadn't realized it had fallen open in surprise at his words, but I do remember that it took me a long time to blink.  All I could do was stare at the scrolled swirls that danced across his skin toward his spine and finally, quietly, ask - "Three...?"

He laughed softly, under his breath.  "Don't panic," he said as he turned, taking my face in his hands and tilting it up to look at him.  "One is going to be Cara.  The other two will be ours."

In that moment I felt so overwhelmingly happy, just serene and content and perfectly, _blissfully_ overjoyed...not because he was planning on giving me the baby - or _babies_ \- that I wanted, but because he finally had a real family of his own, he felt settled and secure enough that he knew without any doubt he was going to expand that family with me.  He knew it solidly enough that he reserved a place on his own flesh for the children he wanted to have with me.  And _me._  He had branded _me_ permanently onto himself.

I must have had some tears because he shushed me gently while he tugged my jeans down off my legs, sliding his warm hands up my calves and over my thighs as he pushed me back on the bed again;  he pulled my shirt off and unhooked my bra, pushing them both aside as he climbed onto me again and gently spread my legs with his.

I don't remember him sliding inside me, all I recall is the sensation of being one with him...it was almost outside the physical realm, like souls holding hands.  He stared me straight in the eyes when he came, his gaze locked with mine, and I thought I had never seen anything so beautiful as his face in that moment when he let go.  I untangled our fingers and reached up to push my hands into his hair, breathing his breath, listening to the little sounds he made, waiting until I felt him gush inside me before I finally closed my eyes and sighed.  It was an expression of complete contentment and I knew, as he lowered his weight onto me with his chest heaving and his arms trembling with the effort of holding himself up, that I'd never felt closer to him, ever.

 

_To be continued..._


	42. Chapter 42

 

 

"I need to go see Emma," Tom said as I came into the kitchen, absently stirring a pan of scrambled eggs as I came up behind him and slipped my arms around his middle.  "Her doctor left me a message, she's been going on about something." 

I cringed, but nodded when he looked at me.  Any time Emma started going on about something, it usually meant some strange cryptic prediction-type announcement was going to get thrown on me the second I walked in.  I didn't mind doing it, but it wore me out emotionally sometimes.

"I'm sorry babe," Tom whispered, kissing my head when I ducked under his arm to move around in front of him.  "If you don't feel like going, you don't have to."

"But she'll freak out if you go in there."

He shrugged.  "Then she'll freak out.  It's probably about time I gave it another try anyway."

I thought about that for a minute, then shook my head.  "No, I'll go.  She trusts me and she'll know you're there anyway, she'll wonder why I didn't come."

A look of concern crossed his face for just a moment, then was gone as he picked me up and sat me on the countertop, grinding up against me with a slice of toast hanging out of his mouth.  "My good girl," he mumbled around it, nuzzling his nose against mine as he reached around me to pour a cup of coffee behind my back.

"You're definitely a barman," I remarked as I watched him do all this - romancing me while simultaneously eating and serving and preparing.  I started to laugh when he nudged the refrigerator door open with his foot, tossing a jug of orange juice into it and kicking it shut.  This was the kind of stuff he and Ewan did all the time at the pub, often while throwing things back and forth to each other across the room.  I started to wonder how he would be with a baby on the table, changing a diaper while preparing a bottle and tossing a load of laundry into the wash all at once.

It was an unbearably attractive image.

As if he'd read my mind, Tom leaned down and pressed his face against my stomach, planting a noisy kiss there.  I threaded my fingers through his hair and just held him for a moment, before he started motorboating my belly and I pushed him away, giggling.  "When do we go?"

The look on his face went from happy to distinctly less than happy in the space of a heartbeat.

"This afternoon," he said quietly as he moved away from me, taking his coffee and retiring to the table where he sat down with a heavy, resigned sigh.

"You don't seem happy about going."

"I'm not."  His bright blue-green eyes clouded over and I knew he knew something I didn't.  But I couldn't bring myself to ask.

 

He stayed in the outer hallway like he always did, waiting until I was all the way into the dayroom before he peeked around the doorway just long enough to get a glimpse of his sister.  When I turned to look back at him, I saw him going past and knew he was on his way to the administrator's office.  It made me feel a little bit nervous, knowing he wasn't nearby and I was on my own, but Emma had never shown any aggression toward me and there were only ever two or three other patients in the room when I was there.  It was a safe situation, for the most part - but today, something felt off.

"Three," she said as I slowly came to the sofa that I always sat on, her eyes falling to my stomach as she turned toward me.  "All girls.  One already is."

My hands went instinctively to my stomach, covering it with my purse.  "What?"

"There are three."  She looked through the window, down at the courtyard below.  "My brother came to see me.  He's old now.  Did I stop getting older?"

I could think of nothing else to say, so I said it again, even though it made me feel stupid when I heard it come out of my mouth the second time.  

"What?"

There was no response this time, so I waited, not sure what to do next.  But she seemed settled and content, staring out the window, so I cleared my throat and remembered what Tom had told me that morning.

"Emma, your doctor says you've been upset about something.  Can you tell me about it?"

She hummed quietly, a little tune that seemed vaguely familiar, though I couldn't place it.  It was several minutes before she spoke again, and I sat there in expectant silence until her voice finally broke the heavy quiet between us.

"There was something in the closet with him.  Something that hurt him."  She turned and looked at me, and I felt my throat clutch up in sudden fear at the look on her face.  For the first time since I'd known her, there was genuine emotion in her expression...and then in the quiet quick space between one breath and the next, her face crumpled into tears and she started sobbing, loud wails that echoed through the dayroom.  It scared me and I stood up quickly, knocking over a chair and almost falling over the low table that was between us.  She had stood up and was staring toward the door to the hall, her eyes wide with terror, nearly screaming now - her voice rose in pitch and volume so quickly that it froze me in place, too shocked to even move.

Strong hands suddenly grabbed my shoulders from behind and pulled me back as an orderly appeared at her side, restraining her gently, trying to calm her - but her eyes were locked to something behind me and she was in full panic mode now, thrashing and fighting as the orderly tried to force her back down into the chair.  I turned to see what she was looking at and realized the hands on my shoulders were Tom's. He was behind me, pulling me away from Emma, and she was pointing at him, screaming, as he dragged me away.

_"You died in the closet!  You died!"_

The look on Tom's face was heartbreaking.  I've never in my life seen anything as pure and perfect as the soul rending grief that broke his beautiful face in that moment.  Tears immediately welled up, a few spilling, and he just stood staring at her, a look of desperate pleading in his eyes, shaking his head as if he was begging her to stop.  His hands were gripping my shoulders so tightly that it hurt and it crossed my mind for a brief second that it was as much for his own protection as mine that he was holding on so tight...that if he let go, he would be alone and scared...a little boy locked in a closet again, desperately afraid, desperately angry, and completely without hope.

He didn't say a word, and after a few long moments a second orderly stepped between us and Emma, quietly asking us to leave so they could take care of her.

Tom nodded, his face suddenly going steely and blank again, like it had been every other time we'd ever come here.  There was no more emotion, no more pain, the tears swatted away by the back of his hand as if they'd never fallen.  He tore his eyes away from her and turned, pulling me along with him so abruptly that I hit my knee on the coffee table and yelped in pain;  he didn't even notice, either that or he was so desperate to get away that he ignored my protests.  As he was dragging me out by my elbow, I dropped my purse and tried to get him to stop so I could pick it up.  He kept going, so I yanked my arm out of his hand and went back to get it;  as I knelt down to gather my things that had fallen out across the floor, I looked back at Emma one last time...she had gotten her hands free from the orderly's grip and was pointing at Tom again, sobbing violently as she screamed,

_"You were nine!  Why are you grown?!  You were old last week, why aren't you nine?!"_

None of it made any sense and when I stuffed my things back into my bag and stood up to hurry after Tom, he had already disappeared out the door.

 

We were signed out and headed across the grounds to the parking lot with me running, trying to catch up, when he suddenly stopped and I ran into him, hard, dropping my purse again.  As I groaned in frustration and dropped to my knees to pick up my spilled possessions once again, I looked up to see him scowling down at me - but he didn't say anything, and after I hurriedly dumped everything back into my bag for the second time and got back to my feet, he shoved the keys into my hand without a word and got in the car, leaving me standing there looking at him.

I drove us home in silence, not knowing what to do other than let him stay inside his own head;  it seemed to be where he felt safe at the moment, and I was afraid to intrude.  I'd never seen him like this, never imagined the outcome of a situation like this one, and every time I stole a glance over at him he seemed closer and closer to unraveling at the seams.

I hadn't even completely stopped the car in front of our house when he opened the door and climbed out, heading down the street toward the pub without saying anything to me.  I got out and watched him for a minute, unsure if I should go after him - he was already two blocks down when I decided to just let him go, digging my phone out of my purse to call Chris and warn him he was coming.

 

He came home a couple of hours later and went straight upstairs;  I heard the shower running and looked over at Cara.  She was sitting on the sofa, doing homework on her laptop, looking up the stairs where her dad had just walked past without a word.  I had told her what happened and she didn't want to be around to see him like that.  Quietly picking up her things, she retreated to her room and shut the door as I hesitantly went upstairs with absolutely no idea what I was going to find.

Tom was just getting out of the shower when I came in, and I watched him through the open bathroom door as he stood with his back to me, drying his hair with a towel.  I sat down on the bed and waited till he came out, looking up at him with a gasp of pure shock when I saw his face.

There was a blackening bruise under his left eye and his cheekbone was cut.

"Oh my god Tom, what happened to you?!"

He just shook his head, lifting the blanket and tugging at it so that I had to move for him to climb into the bed.  He settled in and closed his eyes while I sat staring at him, assessing the damage to his face, until I couldn't take the silence anymore.

"What happened, baby?"

He opened one eye, the unbruised one, and looked at me.  There was no anger in his expression and all the negative emotion from earlier seemed to be gone.  I reached up and very gently touched his cheekbone, just below where it was cut, pulling my hand away quickly when he flinched.

"Just blew off some steam."

"Doing what?  Slamming your face into the alley wall?"

"No...into Chris's fist."  I had resumed gingerly touching his cheek and he flinched again when my finger strayed too close to his bruised eye.  "And possibly his knee at some point."

"You and Chris got in a fight?"

"No - well, yes."  It must have been obvious by my face that I didn't understand this innately _guy_ thing and he laughed a little, like it was suddenly seeming a little bit silly to him as well.  "It's just something we do when one of us needs to purge something dark."

Well that made sense.  He'd been full of something very dark when we left Stonebrooke...I was happy, at least, at the prospect of it having been successfully purged.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, baby."

"Is he?"

He grimaced, swatting my hand away from his injured face.  "Yes, he's fine."

"You just...beat the shit out of each other, and now you feel better and you're still friends and everything's cool?"

"Yep."

"You should just go shopping next time.  I come home in a good mood with no bruises."

He laughed, patting the side of my leg;  his frequent way, lately, of telling me I was a good girl.  The gently happy smile on his face told me the rest.  But his eyes were haunted, and we both knew we were going to have to talk about it.

After a little while of me sitting beside him and him laying there with his eyes closed, rubbing my leg, he finally rolled over onto his side and kissed my hip.

"So what did she say this time.  Before - "  He didn't say the rest, but I knew what he meant.   _Before she saw me and all hell broke loose._

"She said you came to see her and that you were old."

"That's my dad."

 _"What?!"_   

His voice was so calm, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  "I talked to the admissions clerk.  She said my dad's been coming for about a year now.  He's been very careful not to come when I do."

"Why?"

"I don't know...maybe he's not ready to see me."

I stared at him in shock.  "So - when he was in Big Bear, that was about the time he started coming here to see her?"

He nodded, not looking at me.  He seemed to be deep in thought and I felt like I was suddenly intruding, but I was so shaken by this new thing that I just kept talking.

"She also said there are three."

"Three what?"

"She didn't say, but she was staring at my stomach."  I remembered she had said _all girls._

He thought about it for a second, then smiled.  "Well you know how she is with prophecy."

I wasn't sure what to say about that, so I waited for a minute before I continued.  "She said one already is."

"Probably means Cara."

"Does she know about her?"

"No, but that's never stopped her, has it?"

"No, I guess not."

We both went silent again, him laying still with his hand over his eyes, me sitting next to him staring at the back of his wrist.  His dad was back in his life in a roundabout sort of way, skirting the edges, staying in the shadows, and there was nothing from Tom to indicate whether this was a welcome prospect or not.  But he was coming to see Emma, and I couldn't help thinking that was a good sign.

"You intended to call him, didn't you?  Maybe now's the time.  You have something to talk about."

He turned onto his back again and stretched, bumping up against my knee.  "Yeah, I guess I do."

I was dying to find out what Emma's panicked rantings about his age were about but I kept hesitating to ask - something told me this was probably the worst part of what had gone on in her head that day and I wanted to understand it, but I didn't want to pull Tom back into that horrific emotional trauma when he was doing so well recovering from it.  But I couldn't _not_ ask.  If he got mad, he'd just have to get mad.

"What do you think all that...stuff...about you being nine and old and...that was scary, what was that about?  I guess old you was actually your dad?  He looks like you?"

"Too many questions, Anja," he grumbled, sounding suddenly irritated.  "One at a time or nothing."

He was shutting the conversation down - I knew I didn't have much time left to get information out of him before he'd stop talking and refuse to say anything else.  I thought about it for a second, choosing what I wanted the most.

"Why does she think you died in the closet?  I thought she said she killed you, the night Eric's dad died?"

"I dunno."

"She said something was in there with you."

"There was nothing in there with me."

"You're not - "

"I know!  I'm not helping, I know Anja, but honestly I don't know what any of it means, I'm just as weirded out by it as you are.  She's been doing that shit for as long as she's been messed up and I don't have an explanation for any of it."  He had both hands over his face now and I knew he was getting aggravated with me.

"I'm sorry."

I started to get off the bed but he reached out and grabbed the back of my shirt, stopping me.

"Don't leave, baby.  Please...I'm sorry.  It's been a long time since I've let her see me and I'd forgotten how much it fucks my head up when she loses it like that."

I looked back at him, resisting his tug on the back of my shirt, staying where I was on the edge of the bed.

"Why did you come in?"

"I saw her stand up and I was afraid she would hurt you.  She's gotten violent with the staff a few times so I know she can do it."  He let go of my shirt and pulled me back toward him by my elbow, sliding his arms around my hips from behind.  "I didn't want her to hurt you, baby.  I could never have let you go back if that happened."

Sighing, I laid down beside him, letting him pull me up close to him.  He tucked his head under my chin and nuzzled into my neck, his breathing heavy and louder than usual.  It was always noisy, but seemed to get worse when he was upset.  I stroked his hair and listened, a little bit worried...he sounded more rattly than normal.

_There was something in the closet with him.  Something that hurt him._

That night he started coughing, but by morning he seemed better and I forgot about it, following him happily to the pub on foot while he held my hand and slung me around him, smiling and acting like none of it had ever happened.

 

"Mmm.  You smell so good, it's making me nuts.  I think you're ovulating."

"Am I?  Then shouldn't we be fucking?"

"Oh absolutely we should."  He motioned toward the back room with a grin.  "Get back there and wait for me.  Shoulders down, ass up."

I gasped and narrowed my eyes at him - there were people sitting nearby and they'd heard him, but he didn't seem to care.  He was in a much better mood now and it was showing.  "I mean it, get in there and assume the position.  I want you presenting for me when I get there."

I looked over at the couple that were seated closest to us;  they were pretending to not be listening, but the woman widened her eyes at me and nodded with her head toward the back room.  Apparently she thought I should obey and I started laughing, a little bit embarrassed.  Chris was obviously eavesdropping as well because he went to the jukebox and put on Martha and the Vandellas, loud.   _Heatwave._

"Fine, fine, I get the hint.  I'm going."

 

I was barely even all the way into the room when Tom caught up.  He came at me like an animal, his mouth hitting mine hard as he was pushing me backwards toward the wall, guiding me around the furniture while his hands yanked my shirt up over my head.  My own hands were tugging at his shirt as I stumbled, trying to stay ahead of his advance, finally hitting the wall with my back and being crushed against it by his chest slamming into mine.  He was hurriedly unbuckling his pants and tugged mine down as soon as his were open enough;  I pushed my hands into the back of his jeans and squeezed his ass hard, pushing them down further so I could touch him more.  He groaned heavily and cursed against my mouth and I could feel his hipbones grinding hard against mine, hurting but in a good way...it was all hurried and brutal and so completely sensual that all I was truly aware of were my senses, individually, rather than the whole experience that we usually comprehend.  It was like Tom was forcing me to feel each one independent of the others and they took turns commanding my awareness.  I loved it.  It felt primal and out of control and _real,_ and I'd never been so hyper-aware of my own existence in my entire life. 

The first to manifest was sight - his face, close to mine, his skin and his lips and his dark eyebrows, the flash of turquoise before his eyes closed, the glimpse of his bare chest pushing my breasts flat against it when I looked down...this was followed by scent, the heated spicy musk of his skin and his sweat and the coffee tinted smell of his breath misting warmly over my lips.  The tinge of beer and whiskey on his clothes and in his hair.  The hot, sharply soft smell of arousal as it drifted up between us, brought more into focus as his hands tugged my panties down and my own hands pushed his jeans out of the way, freeing the strongest sources of our mingling pheromones...taste was next, the taste of his skin, his lips, his tongue pressing into my mouth, the sweetly salty mixture of his sweat and spit and the spiked coffee he'd been drinking, all bitter and sharp and sweetened with vanilla and cinnamon.

Touch worked its way into my awareness next, his calloused hands removing my clothing, then moving roughly over my hips to push me against the wall, the sharp bite of his hipbones clashing against mine, the heat of his belly, the strength of his chest...the softly sandpapery sensation of his five-day old whiskers scrubbing across my cheek and the tickle of his hair falling against my face, teasing my nose with the temptation to sneeze...the surprising hardness and heat of his cock pushing against my thigh...followed quickly by sound, the soft but urgent grunts of his voice as his cognizance turned into instinct, the dull bang of the back of my head making contact with the wall, the wind tunnel loudness of his breath in my ear and the frantic rush of my own breathing, quick and uneven, soon drowned out by the moans and high pitched whines of my voice as he pushed into me and set loose the noisy release of passion from inside.

All of this assaulted me from within and without while his body worked against mine, joining us almost violently in an urgent, blind, instinctive mating call that overruled everything else.

As he stretched my arms up over my head to pin my wrists to the wall with his hand, the other sliding up my chest to grip my throat and squeeze just hard enough to catch my breath away, all I could think of was how far he'd taken me in the year I'd been with him.  This was normal, my _new_ normal, and it suited me...though just a year ago I'd have called him a perverted freak if he'd even mentioned to me that any of this was possible.  But now that I was so deeply embroiled in it that nothing else seemed even remotely relevant, I knew without a doubt it was all I'd ever wanted. _He_ was all I'd ever wanted.  I just hadn't known it till now.

 

After a while I slid down the wall and Tom nearly let me fall, he was so breathless and exhausted.  I felt boneless after what was possibly the hardest orgasm I'd ever had and my pelvis felt broken, but I was giggling happily.  He lodged his knee between my legs to keep me from hitting the floor while he caught his breath and we heard Ewan's voice, outside the door to the alley, asking if we were done yet.

"Bloody hell you two!" he yelled as Tom reached over and pushed the door open, while I hurriedly pulled my shirt back on.  "I've been waiting out here for so damn long for you to finish, do you know how stoned I am?  There's nothing to do out here except keep smoking!"

"You could have gone around to the front, jackass," Tom grumbled, dropping my pants into my hands as he pulled his own back up.

"I'm too messed up to figure that out."

"You can barely figure it out when you're not messed up."

I was leaning against the wall zipping my jeans when he came ambling in;  he looked at me with a sheepish grin and blew a mouthful of smoke into my face as he said "Oh hey Anja," on his way through, grinning lewdly.  Tom punched him in the back of the head.

"Don't blow smoke around her."

"Ow, fuck.  Why, is she pregnant?"

"She's going to be soon."

"What, from just now?  Damn."  He looked back at me, his eyes unnaturally bright from the high, that big grin plastered across his face.  Tom gave him a less than playful shove.

"Get out."

 

Once Ewan was gone, Tom sat down on the sofa and slung his legs out, leaning back with his arms over his head to stretch his back.  It always amazed me how long he was, all fully extended in a full body stretch like that, like a huge sleek cat.  He could lay his hand flat on the ceiling and won bar bets at least once a week by proving it.  He finally dropped his arms and grinned at me.

"There's something I want to talk to you about."

I was jumping around the room trying to pull my boots on without unzipping them and ended up too close to the sofa;  he stuck his foot out and tripped me so that I fell onto the cushions next to him, partly on him, and he pulled my legs up over his lap to do it for me.  "I want us to have the baby at home."

I wasn't paying attention, still messing with my boot;  without looking up I mumbled "What?" and he brushed my hair back off my shoulder, stroking a finger across my cheek.

"I want to deliver our kids myself."

That got my attention.  I stared at him in shock - I wasn't even pregnant yet and he was already planning out the delivery.  "You...what?  Are you serious?"

"I'm very serious.  Cara can come back for a while when you're close to your due date and help out."  He laughed softly at what must have been the completely mortified look on my face.  "You'll be under a doctor's care - I'm not cutting the professionals out, I just want us to do it together, at home."

"But - "

He was staring at me, his entire face pleading.  I could tell he really wanted me to say yes.  And even though the idea scared me, I knew I trusted him enough to put it all in his hands, quite literally.

"Well...okay then," I finally said, watching as a smile began to spread across his face.  "Why not."

He tugged me down against his chest and I snuggled into him, an almost overwhelming mix of emotions churning in my gut.  Happiness and contentment and excitement and more than a little bit of fear...and a nagging, deeply disturbing worry, not for myself, but for the rattly labored sound coming from his chest as he breathed.

I just kept hearing Emma in my head.

_Something hurt him..._

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	43. Chapter 43

 

 

After days of listening to Tom cough all night and wheeze all day, I finally broke down and took it upon myself to see if I could start some kind of ball rolling.  I wanted him to see a doctor and call his father, but he didn't want to do either - so I waited till he was away doing errands for the pub and pulled out the box in the back where he tossed all his receipts and scraps of paper with phone numbers and other information on them.  I figured if the card with his dad's number on it wasn't in his wallet, it would be in this box.

Chris came in to throw some dirty rags into the washer and asked if I needed help finding something.

"Just looking for a phone number."

He nodded and started to leave, but I stopped him.

"Tom is sick," I said quietly, holding the box of wadded up papers against me.  He turned around at the door, a sudden look of panic coming across his face.  I'd always known, but it was never more obvious than in that moment that Chris loved Tom nearly as much as I did.  Maybe more, in a way, based on their time and history together.

"What's the matter with him?"

"He's not breathing good.  Like, worse than usual.  And now he's coughing all night."

His look changed from concern to borderline anger, his lips compressing into a grim tight line and his eyes going squinty.  "I've been telling him for the last fifteen years he needs to get those gimpy lungs looked at."

"You have?"   _Fifteen years?_  "You mean he's been sick that long?"

"Yeah - when he first came here he had that rattly thing going on, like a box of ball bearings rolling around in his chest."  He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms and I wondered, just briefly, how he was so familiar with what Tom's chest sounded like.  "About twice a year he'd get so sick he couldn't breathe, my mom got antibiotics from her pharmacist friend and he'd pull through, but it was always bad."

"Why didn't she take him to the doctor?"

His frown turned quickly to bemusement, like I should know this already.  "He was a minor and a runaway and we weren't his relatives, we didn't know his history, she wasn't about to set him up with an official medical record that he could be traced through.  She always sorta thought he was on the run from the law."

"Your mom watched too much crime TV."

"Hey, she wasn't that far from the truth.  Tommy's got a hell of a past."

I nodded, agreeing but not really wanting to talk about it.  The emotional stress of my little chat with Emma was still sitting hard on my heart and I didn't feel like adding any more to it.  I wanted to ask him how close he and Tom had been when they were kids, but decided instead to stick to the subject.  "He's got his dad's phone number somewhere but he won't call him.  He's been visiting Emma at the home and we really need to talk to him."

"His dad?  For real?"

"Yeah...I was thinking maybe I'd call him myself."

Chris started shaking his head, a warning look darkening his expression.  "I wouldn't do that, Anja.  You go behind his back on something like that and he's gonna be pissed.  His past is his, he doesn't like anyone else messing with it."

"I know, but - "

"Uh uh.  Just don't.  Trust me on this, okay?"

The sudden fierce protectiveness in his tone startled me and I nodded, staring wide-eyed at him for a moment before my mouth rushed ahead without my brain's permission.

"How close were you and Tom?"

He'd been turning to leave and stopped, pushing the door shut again.  But he didn't look at me, and when he rested his forehead against the doorframe I felt my heart clutch up.  There was a long sigh, and then he spoke again in a quiet, almost sad voice.

"Brothers, I guess.  He was skinny and sick and nobody cared about him.  Somebody had to.  He was like a pitiful stray that you know is probably a good dog under all the muck and growling, he just needed a chance to prove he wasn't always gonna bite."

Those words made me feel so sad...the happy, sweet, kindhearted Tom I knew...envisioning him as a ferocious stray was more than I wanted to think about.  And the visual of Chris and his mom taming him with kindness and care was even more gutwrenching.

"It wasn't hard, was it?  Caring about him."

He shook his head, still not looking at me.  "Nope, not hard at all."

"How close, Chris?"  I didn't know why I kept pressing him for this, but it felt important to me and I couldn't let it go.  "How close were you?"

He finally looked at me, just staring straight through me for a long few seconds before the crooked smile came back.

"Close."

 

Later that night I was in the back room again, this time with Tom after closing - he was coughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath and when it finally stopped, his lips were blue and his eyes were glassy.  I couldn't see how he could live like this, it was obviously getting worse and each time it took him longer to breathe normally again.  He leaned over and spit into the laundry basin and just stood there, supporting himself with his hands, his head hanging.

"Please go to the doctor, Tom.  Please?   _For me?"_

He gave me a look that shamed me to my bones - he never fell for guilting and I never pulled that on him anyway, but this time...I was desperate.  I didn't look away when he glared at me and after what seemed like forever, he finally looked away himself.  But he didn't say yes or no, and after more than a week of laying next to him while he struggled for air in between coughing fits, I'd had enough.  I started crying.

I saw him grimace and knew I'd triggered his temper, but I couldn't help it...my tears weren't to bully him into doing what I wanted, they were just the final result of my nerves stretching to the breaking point. It was overly dramatic and stupid and unintentionally manipulative, but I rushed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind me.  I wasn't more than five steps into the main room of the pub when the door opened back up so hard that it hit the wall and he yelled my name.

_"Anja!"_

He'd never used that tone on me before and it scared me - I didn't have a dad to raise his voice and scold me for doing something wrong, but I imagined this was what it would sound like if I had.  I froze, stopping halfway across the room.  Chris was behind the bar looking from me to Tom and back to me again with a worried look on his face, quirking an eyebrow like he was asking if either of us needed help.

_"Get back here right now."_

The timbre of his voice really unnerved me, but instead of fear this time, I felt my defiance rile up.  

"No."

_"Anja!"_

_"Stop yelling at me!"_

He went silent and I watched Chris's eyes, staring hard at Tom over my shoulder.  He was shaking his head, just barely, just like Tom had done that night so long ago when I was walking out with Eric.  It seemed like forever before anyone said anything, but finally Tom broke the nervous silence.

"I'm sorry, babe.  Come back and talk to me."

"I don't want to."

"Please?  I'm not yelling now, I'm sorry I did.  I won't do it again, okay?"

I shook my head and took a deep breath.  I had _never_ walked away from him before and it felt so bad to do it, but I knew if I turned around and let him hug me or whatever he was planning on doing, he would never take me seriously on this - and I wanted more than anything for him to do just that.  I needed him to take me seriously.

"No."

I grabbed my keys from the bar and walked out.

 

He came home maybe an hour later.  Cara was working a late shift at her internship so I was alone in the house when he walked in;  I did my best to ignore him, but he came up behind me and slipped his arms around my stomach, pushing his face into the side of my neck and kissing me.

"Don't Tom, that's not going to work."

He murmured something against my ear and I shrugged my shoulder to get him off me, stepping out of his embrace and going back to my cooking without looking at him.  I'd never pushed him away before and I could tell he didn't know how to react;  he just stood there, I could feel him behind me, knew he was staring at me even though I never took my eyes off what I was doing.

After a few tense moments of not knowing what he was going to do - we'd never been in a situation like this with each other, for all I knew he was going to freak out on me - he finally moved to the door and paused there for a second.

"I went to the doctor, Anja.  Almost a week ago."

 

I let him go, listening as he went up the stairs.  A sudden anger rushed over me - why hadn't he just told me?  Why did he always have to be so secretive?  I slammed the pan down on the stove and shut off the burner, throwing my towel into the sink, and was about to go after him to let him know what I thought about the whole withholding information thing when I saw a folded up stack of papers on the table.  I picked them up and yanked them open, so pissed that I could hardly stop my hands from shaking.

My heart clutched up when I saw the clinic's lab letterhead.

_Did I want to see this?_

No...but I needed to.

I took a deep breath and unfolded the papers as I sat down at the table.  There was a sheet of lab results from a blood test, an x-ray summation, and several other things including a prescription consult for a steroid with an unpronouncable name and a round of antibiotics.  Stapled to it all was a card with a web address for the clinic's online patient records site with Tom's patient ID and passcode scribbled on it.

I didn't even think twice about going straight to Cara's computer and logging into his patient account.

 

The page opened and there in front of me was a diagnosis summary, written by his doctor.

_Male, 29, presented with labored breathing, hoarse cough, pain in chest, accelerated heart rate.  Blood oxygen showed poor saturation due to constant shallow breath intake and x-ray revealed deep lung scar tissue and long term damage usually seen in cases of prolonged exposure to toxic substances.  Presence of infection in damaged lung tissue and bronchial tubes.  Diagnosis of chronic pneumonitis. Recommend course of antibiotics and steroid treatment with followup._

 

I guess I sat there in dumb shock for half an hour, just staring at the page...after a little while I started Googling, looking up terms, going to medical sites to find out about this diagnosis and what it meant.  My head kept going back to one thing.   _Usually seen in cases of prolonged exposure to toxic substances._

 

I waited a while longer until my head was straight, then went upstairs.

 

He was laying on the bed on his side, facing away from me, his long legs pulled up so that his knees were almost to his chest.  Despite how big he was, he just looked like a little kid to me and I wanted more than anything to hug him and hold him and snuggle him...but he wasn't a little kid, he was a grown man and he wasn't happy with me at the moment.

"What was in the closet with you?" I asked after I'd stared at his back for a while.

"Nothing."

"Emma said - "

"I know what Emma said but I don't know why she said it."  There was a distinct note of impatience in his voice and I knew he didn't want to be having this conversation with me again.  But I did.  I swallowed hard and took a deep breath - he wasn't going to bully me out of pressing for details this time.

"What was in the closet, Tom."

There was silence for a long moment, then he slowly turned over and looked at me.  "You're not going to stop, are you."

"No."

He stared hard at me and I knew he was trying to unnerve me enough to get me to drop it.  I just stared back at him, trying not to be the first to blink, but it was hard...I wasn't scared of him, but he could still make me so uncomfortable when he tried.  He finally sighed and laid his arm over his eyes.

"Fine.  What do you want to know."

_He was actually going to talk to me._ This was a stroke of luck and I did't want to screw it up, so I thought for a second about how to best word it.  I finally decided to just go gently.  "I know it's probably your worst memory ever, but can you think about it and try to remember what was around you?"

"It was dark, Anja."

"I know...but your mom opened the door to give you food, right?  And you could feel things.  Plus you can identify everything in the world by smell."

"It was a closet, there was closet shit in it."

"Like - ?"

"Shoes, coats."

"What else?"

He shook his head.  "I don't know...boxes of stuff."

I thought about the diagnosis summary.  "The doctor said prolonged exposure to toxic substances."

He didn't respond for a while, and I sat there listening to his breathing while I waited.  He sounded a little bit better, less labored, and I wondered if he'd already started taking the meds he'd been prescribed.  "I dunno, baby...there might have been something." 

"What was in the boxes?"

I could tell he was thinking, and I felt terrible for forcing him to do this.  But it was necessary, and he was cooperating - that was a miracle in itself.  He usually just sulled up and refused to talk.

"Just one box...it was wood...I used it as a pillow, actually."

"And?"

"I don't know, there were cans in it, wet stuff - they like, leaked.  It was sticky and smelled bad."

"Leaky cans?  Damn Tom, they left you in there with chemicals?"

"I guess, yeah."

I felt so angry, I wanted to smash something.  Scream and curse.   _Kill someone._

"What's your stepdad's name?"

He uncovered his eyes and looked at me, obviously confused.  "Why?"

"What was his name, I want to know."

"His name was John."

"John what?"

"Elgin."

"Middle name?"

"What do you want his middle name for?"

"Just tell me, okay?  Humor me like you're usually so good at doing.  There's got to be a million John Elgins in the world, I want to know which one did this to you."

He squinted at me, like he always did when he was either going to ignore my question or intimidate me into changing my mind about something - but I just squinted back at him till he finally shrugged and gave in.  "I dunno, something odd...Milworth or something...Milstead."

"John Milstead Elgin?"

"Yeah."

I got up and left the room, feeling his eyes on me as I walked out.

 

When I came back with Cara's laptop a little later, he was still laying there with his arm over his face.  I laid the computer on the bed next to him and turned the screen to face him.

"John Milstead Elgin of Detroit Michigan, aged 43, deceased.  In a very _very_ unpleasant manner."

Tom looked at the computer, a bright curiosity coming into his eyes that I hadn't seen in a long time.  Then it changed to something else and he closed the computer, turning away from me to curl up into himself again.  His voice was tired when he spoke.

"Does that make you feel better, Anja?"

"Yes.  But not as good as I'd feel if you'd gotten the chance to do it."

He didn't respond right away - then, finally, he reached back and held his hand out to me, still facing away from me.  I took it and he squeezed my fingers, then pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it.  After a while of laying there silent like that, he tugged on my arm and I laid down behind him, pressing up against him while he hugged my hand to his chest.

"The closet wasn't my worst memory ever, Anja...my worst memory ever was coming home and finding you sick."  He pushed my knuckles against his face and breathed on them for a moment.  "Nothing has ever come close to that."

I burrowed my head against the middle of his back and let his hair cover my face.  There was absolutely nothing I could say, but I knew he didn't need any words from me.  I opened my hand and laid my fingers gently over his mouth.

 

We fell asleep for a little while, me spooned up against him from behind, him holding my hand against his face.  I could feel the rattling in his lungs through his ribcage and it broke my heart to know he'd suffered with this for so long.  He'd always been a little bit cranky, a little bit short on tolerance for things that annoyed him, and it was starting to make sense now why.  He just didn't feel good.  From the wording of the diagnosis evaluation and the symptom rundowns I'd looked up, it sounded like he'd probably been in constant pain - or at least intense discomfort - for close to twenty years.  He'd been nine when he went into the closet, he was nearly thirty now.  I hugged him closer and kissed his back, listening to him sigh contentedly as he pulled my hand up tighter to his mouth and kissed it.

"I'm sorry, Tom."

"For what?"

"I don't know...I feel like I defied you or something."

He sighed and reached back to grab my hip and shake me a little.  "Baby, listen to me - what have I always told you?  You don't have to put up with shit from me, if I'm acting like a dick you can tell me to fuck off.  You don't have to let me be mean to you."

"I know...but I...I know why you're mean sometimes, I think."

He raised an eyebrow, looking back at me over his shoulder.  "Babe, my only excuse is that I'm a bit of an asshole.  Don't try to validate reasons for my behavior."

"But you're sick."

"I've been like this my whole life."

"Yeah and you've been sick for almost that long too."

I sat up beside him, noticing the flicker in his eyes when I let my hand stroke slowly across his lower belly.  He was always so sensitive to touch, every form of contact seemed to arouse him to some degree.  How deprived of touch would a person have to have been as a child to be so driven toward it as an adult?

I knew he needed it...I could sense it in him, more so since my own illness.  Something had woken up in my brain that made me more aware of certain things, and Tom's dark needs was one of them.

Without speaking, I moved over him on my knees, nudging him over onto his back, pushing my pajama pants down once I was straddling him.  His hands came up to help me get them out of the way, one finger sliding teasingly against my folds before he let them fall to his sides again, eyes going unashamedly to my crotch as a small smile came across his lips.  He watched in silence while I pulled his zipper down, tugging at the front of his jeans to make room for my hand to slip in and pull him out;  he was half hard and responded quickly to my stroking, eyes falling shut and mouth opening slightly as I worked my hand up and down on him.  He filled my grip almost immediately, his erection thickening in my hand before I even put much effort into it.

"You're hard," I said teasingly, my voice sounding smaller and more timid by far than I intended.  He nodded, eyes still closed, breathing heavily through his mouth.  I thought he seemed tired and I wasn't sure how much effort he was going to feel like putting into this, so I scooted back and bent over, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock.  It was already weeping a bit, preparing for me, and I tasted the mildly salty tang of him on my tongue as I gave him a lick.  His breath caught in his throat and when I looked up, he was looking down at me with a gentle smile on his face.

"Go ahead and sit on it, baby," he said quietly, giving my hair a tug to pull me up.  "We're trying to get you pregnant, remember?  It can't get to your uterus through your stomach."

"Which is funny because they're probably just a couple of inches apart."

He laughed and pressed his hand against my belly.  "Your stomach is here - "  He pushed in with his fingers, tickling me, then moved his hand further down, just above my pubic bone.  "And your uterus is here. When you're pregnant, they'll be sitting right against each other."

"You know everything."

"I read a lot."

I settled down on him, taking him in slowly, stopping to stroke him a little to get him completely hard while he ran his hands up under my shirt to rub my breasts.  "I'm sorry," I said quietly, leaning forward to kiss him.  "I'm sorry I made you tell me all that...I just...I needed to know."

"Shhhh, I know baby."

"I'm sorry - "

"It's okay.  Be quiet now."

I nodded, biting my lip as he began thrusting up against me...I suddenly remembered what he'd said about his worst memory not being anything from his nightmarish childhood or his dark, bitter past...

...his worst memory was when something happened to _me._  

The rush of delayed emotion from that confession took me completely off guard.  I melted into tears for the second time that night and he sat up, wrapping his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest.  I expected him to shush me or silently stroke my hair until I settled or lay me over on my back and screw me till I was over it - but he did none of those things.  I was starting to think he was just going to hold me until one or both of us fell asleep when I felt his hands slowly coming up my sides, his long fingers beginning to dig into those intensely ticklish spots in between my ribs.

_"Oh no...no - "_

Before I could put up an effective protest, he was tickling me mercilessly and I fell over on the bed screaming, completely at the mercy of his strong hands and stubborn determination to make me wet myself. The only thing that saved me was his phone going off;  he stopped just long enough to reach over and pick it up, his eyebrows going up as he moved over off me quickly.

"Shit, hold on - it's my dad."

I was still giggling and trying to cover my sensitive spots with my hands when I realized what he'd said.

_"What?!"_

 

 

To be continued...

 


	44. Chapter 44

 

 

I usually tried to avoid listening in on his phone conversations out of respect for his privacy, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed just inches away from me so it was difficult not to overhear everything. He didn't seem to care, though.  The voice at the other end was similar to his, clear and authoritative and kind, but minus the British accent - and I could hear every word he said.

It was definitely his dad.

It felt weird and wrong to be listening in on this, so I started to get up and leave the room, but he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back down on the bed next to him without interrupting his conversation. Confused, I whispered, "Don't you want some privacy?"  He shook his head and the voice at the other end went quiet.

"Is this a bad time?  If you've got company I can - "

"No, no it's alright.  It's my wife...I got married not long ago."  He looked at me and smiled.

I heard a happy laugh through the phone.  "Well, congratulations.  Have I got any grandkids?"

"You do, actually.  I've got a fifteen year old daughter."

There was a pause and I knew there was math being done silently at the other end of the line.  "Son, you're barely thirty."

"Yeah, I know - it's a long story."

Tom was tugging me closer to him, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me up tight against his side, and I turned so that I could slip my own arms around his middle.  He and his dad chatted for another few minutes while I snuggled against him, listening to his loud heartbeat and thinking how strange and surreal the whole thing was.   _Tom's dad._   He'd always seemed like some faceless entity, a wraith just hiding behind the furniture of Tom's past, not a real person and definitely not a tangible part of our life.  But I was listening to his voice and for the first time ever I realized Tom actually had a mom and dad, he hadn't just always been standing behind the bar serving me perfect vanilla cream cappuccinos.  He had a family and a childhood and he actually came from somewhere.

It was unsettling.

And then I realized I knew nothing about his mom and wondered if she was going to be next.

 

When he finally hung up, his phone beeped and he took a text from his doctor's office.

"Appointment with the pulmonary specialist on Tuesday.  Don't let me forget."

I couldn't keep myself from laughing - _me,_ not forget?  "Don't rely on me for that."

He put the phone down and slid his hand through my hair, rubbing the other up and down my back.  "Can we still have sex?"  I made a sound of surprised indignation and pushed away from him as he tried to grab me, slapping his arms away.

"NO."

"But why not?"  He grabbed for me again and I scooted out of his reach, which was hard to do because the man could reach clear to the end of the bed without even leaning forward.

"Because I'm mad at you.  I've been on you for _weeks_ to call your dad and you just kept telling me no, you weren't ready."

"I wasn't ready."  He grabbed at me again and I pointed at him threateningly.

"You called him days ago and never told me!"

He sighed and rolled his eyes, then gave me a pleading look.  "I had to make sure of a few things first, Anja.  I didn't want you to get all excited about maybe meeting him until I knew for certain that it would be safe for you."

I stopped and stared at him.  "Safe?  Safe from what?"  His face fell into a look of contrition and he frowned a little.

"Baby, I don't know that man.  The last time I saw him was over twenty years ago, my memories of him are limited and people change.  He might not have been someone I wanted my family to be exposed to."

 _My family._  I felt a little stab at my heart...me and Cara, he looked at us as his family now, not his own parents.  I finally let him grab my shirt and he tugged me toward him.  "You were protecting me?"

"Yes - he might not be a nice guy, you know?  It might not even have been him, honestly.  I had no idea what I was going to find when I contacted him and you know how happy you get about things...I just really didn't want you being upset if it didn't work out the way you hoped."  He was slowly drawing me toward him as he talked and I finally fell against his chest, hugging my arms around his middle again.

"I want to be mad at you though."

"Well...go right ahead and be mad then.  I'm sure I'll do something worthy of it before too long."

I thought about it for a minute.  "Will you tell me what you talked about?"

"Just getting reacquainted.  We're strangers, the last time we saw each other I could barely read."

"Are you going to meet him?"

"Yes...you can go with me if you like.  I've talked to him a few times now, he seems okay.  Not a raging drunk or psycho or anything, from what I can tell - I've called him a couple of times, at random times when he wasn't expecting me, and every time he sounded sober and normal."

I nodded, happy that he was going to let me be with him the first time he saw his dad again.  That felt special.  Just the fact that he brought it up himself without me having to ask made it feel even better.  I bit my lip and gave him a coy look, my arms draped over his shoulders around his neck, pushing my forehead against his.

"Can we do something rough?"

He grinned.  "What do you want?"

"Maybe...hurt me a little?"

His grin got bigger.

"If that's what you want, baby...but why?"

"We won't be able to do too much rough once I'm pregnant, right?  I'm going to miss it.  Aren't you?"  I was slowly sliding my fingers through his hair and his eyes were drifting shut;  he loved to be touched this way and I wasn't above using it to my advantage.  I pushed his hair back and gathered it all behind him with one hand, giving it a sharp tug that made him groan.

"You want me to hurt you and then take care of you, baby?  Is that what you want?"  His eyes were still closed and he had a gentle look on his face, completely incongruous with what we were talking about.  I nodded, chewing my lip.  I loved this and he knew it.  His arms suddenly tightened around me, yanking me up against him hard.

"I'm going to go pick up Cara and when I get back I want you to be ready for me."

 

I obeyed, listening to him leave and then waiting, excited and trembling on the bed, until I heard him come back.  He undressed in the dark and I heard him dropping his boots on the floor...the bed moved and I felt him crawling in beside me, reaching across me to turn on the bedside lamp, settling on top of me as I turned onto my back under him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Hello baby," he murmured against my lips.

"Mmmm," I sighed back, snuggling down under him.  I wriggled my hips so that I rubbed against him and he groaned deeply, shifting up onto his knees and pulling me up after him.

"You remember the rules, don't you baby?" he asked as he turned me around so that I was facing away from him.  His hands were rubbing gently up and down my back and he was kissing my shoulder, biting and nibbling on it, alternately using his teeth and his tongue to administer tiny bits of pain mixed with soft licks to soothe them after.  I shivered.  Tom was so good at taking care of me...I craved it, I craved _him,_ I craved _this._  I let my head fall back against his shoulder and he began sucking at the side of my neck, and by the sting I knew he was marking my skin.

He grasped a handful of my hair and gently pulled my head back.

"You haven't answered me."

I nodded, groaning.  "I remember the rules.  I take what I can or as much as I want, and I stop you when I've had enough."

"And?"

"I don't take more than I'm able to just to make you happy."

"And?"

"I'm vocal so you know what's going on with me at all times."

"Good girl."  He pushed me down onto my hands and knees and then hooked his hands into the crook of my hips to pull me back, away from the headboard.  "Remember that I will always respect _no, stop, and enough._  Use those words when you need them, Anja.  Understood?"

I nodded again.  "Yes."  I was so turned on by this point that I could barely formulate that one simple word.

He moved up behind me and took my hips in his hands again, positioning me the way he wanted me as he got up on his knees and nudged up against me.  "Are you comfortable, baby?"

"Yes."

"Are your knees okay like that?"

"Yes."

His hands were rubbing my bottom, stroking down the backs of my thighs and back up again as he talked, and by the time I felt his cock press into my back I was quivering with so much want I could hardly stand it.

_"Please...?"_

"Please what, baby?"  He teased my bare underside with one finger.  "What do you want?"

"You."

"Say it."

"Fuck me... _please..."_

He didn't need any more coaxing.  He pushed down on the middle of my back so that I had no choice but to arch my bottom up, and just as I felt his chest come down on my back I felt his cock slide into me at the same time.  It was big and hard and hot and I gasped as it stretched me open, groaning as he slipped an arm under my chest to play with my breasts.  He was sucking and biting at my shoulder and the side of my neck, whispering things to me that both excited and calmed me.  But of all the words he murmured into my skin and panted against my ear, just four stayed with me, settling deep in my soul, playing over and over like a favorite record.

_I love you, Anja._

 

The steroids made him hyper and the antibiotics made him sick to his stomach, but he was feeling better within a few days of starting his treatment.  The rattling in his chest settled down after about a week even though the coughing intensified, but the doctor had told us to expect that - his lungs were trying to clear themselves out, which was a good thing.

We were at the pub after hours, sitting at the table by the window after cleaning up for the night.  He was shouting instructions to Ewan about something in the kitchen when suddenly he winked at me, putting his bottle down.

"I can breathe," he said, a mischievous smirk pulling at his mouth.  "I've been stuffed up for a week, I haven't been able to smell anything, not even you."  He leaned in a little, sniffing me, not making any bones about hiding it.

"What?  Why are you doing that?"  I scooted back but he grabbed my chair and pulled me toward him, pushing his nose between my breasts.  "Stop it, freak - geez."

He sat back and squinted at me, like he was figuring something out.  "You smell different," he finally said, eyes falling to my lap.  "Why do you smell different?"

"I don't know...nobody's touched me that I'm aware of.   _Nobody_ touches me, they're all afraid of you."  I slapped at his hands when he grabbed my knees to push them apart.  "Stop it!"

"No, it's not someone else - it's you."  He separated my knees even though I was struggling to stop him and the next thing I knew his head was between my legs, his face pushing up against my crotch, inhaling deeply.

"I'm having flashbacks to our first date."  I tugged roughly at his hair, trying to get him off me.

"We never had a first date."

"Well no, not officially...but you stood outside my house and sniffed my crotch, I don't know what else to call it so in my head I've labeled it our first date."

"Whatever you say."  He pulled his head up and gave me that cockeyed look again.  "Something's not right about your cycle. You're what, two days out?"

I looked at him, shaking my head in confusion.  "Two days out of what?"

"Your bleed.  It should be in two days, right?"

"I have no idea, you're the one who keeps track of that."

He got a very self satisfied look on his face then, sitting back and reaching for his bottle again.  "You should go to the doctor tomorrow.  Not that I need any confirmation that I'm right."

I stared at him, feeling my eyes going wide.  "Confirmation of what?"

He took a long swig of his beer, blue eyes sparkling at me over the bottle.  "Confirmation of your due date."

 

I couldn't get an appointment for a few days, but a quick test from the drugstore the next morning came up a very faint positive.  Tom came in and stood in the bathroom door while I was staring at it, trying to decide if the pale pink line forming the plus sign could possibly be my imagination.

"Told you," he said with a grin.

"Told me what, you haven't even seen it."

"I don't need to see it.  It's positive."

"Just barely."

He shrugged, coming to the sink to brush his teeth.  "Just barely is still positive.  Wait and see."

I watched him for a minute...he was leaning over the sink, his long black hair falling over one side of his face, the other side tucked behind his ear and back over his shoulder.  All he had on was his jeans and I could see the top few inches of his tattoo, scrawling over his hip and partly up his back.  I wondered if one day it would cover his whole body.  For some reason the idea of him stripping off his shirt to reveal a chest and arms completely covered in ink made me inexplicably hot and I pushed up against him from behind, shoving my hand down the front of his pants.  He dropped his toothbrush and turned around, grabbing me by the ass and hefting me up to sit me on the sink, pulling my legs up to hitch them around his hips as I tried desperately to get his zipper down.

"You want a fucking, little mama?"

"Mmm...what?"  I looked up at him in shock, not sure I'd heard him right.

"You heard me."  He pushed my sleepshirt up to my hips and hooked a finger in the crotch of my panties, tugging them to one side so he could push his thumb against my clit.  I made a little sound of intense pleasure and he hurriedly moved my hands out of the way so he could get himself out of his pants.  "A quickie before the kids wake up, my sexy little soccer mom?"

"Oh my god, stop it or I'm leaving."

"I'd like to see you try."  He dug his fingers into my hip, making me squirm while his other fingers pushed up under me, thumb still rubbing on me right where it felt best.  "Which one of us is walking the oldest to the bus stop today?  I don't have time to sit in the drop-off lane this morning, and don't forget you have to take the baby to her pediatrician appointment this afternoon - "

"Stoppppp!"  The combination of his words and his fingers digging into me made me bust up laughing, but I couldn't push away from him.  He pulled my shirt up and lowered his mouth to my breast, sucking at my nipple while his fingers kept right on stroking me between my legs.

"Better get your nipples toughened up, I understand breastfeeding is torture at first."

"Okay that's it, get off me, I officially don't want to be married to you anymore."

He chuckled darkly, sucking gently on my breast until I stopped struggling and pushed my hands into his hair, holding his head closer.  "So you've got this whole thing worked out already, huh?"

"Since the day I met you."

"Ohhh I call bullshit, you hated me when you met me."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you - "

_"Shhhh..."_

I started to say something again but he brought his head up and kissed me;  it was gentle and he Mmmm'ed quietly against my lips while one hand played teasingly with my breast, the other working slow magic between my legs.  When he finally removed his fingers from where they'd been rubbing between my folds, he stepped back just long enough to replace them with the head of his cock, sliding it in a tiny bit till he heard me whine into his mouth.

It felt _sooo_ good.

He rewarded my neediness with an inch or so, pushing in just a little, waiting for me to make noise again...I groaned, and he gave me a little more.  By now I'd figured out what he was doing and wriggled my butt on the sink, bringing my knees up to his ribs to clutch onto him, giving him a little moan to encourage him in further, sliding my hands down to his rear to try to pull him closer.  The slow tease was driving me nuts.

"All of it...please," I whispered against his lips, tugging at him, feeling his muscles flex under my hands as he braced himself against my pulling.

"Be a good girl, Anja," he admonished me with a slightly scolding tone to his voice, ragged with desire but still completely in control of both himself and me.  "You can have it quick and dirty or slow and sweet, but you've got to choose."  One of his hands slid across to my stomach and pressed in gently, just below my bellybutton, reminding me without words that we were probably going to be parents.  The whole _quick and dirty_ thing suddenly seemed wrong with my test stick sitting just a couple of feet away on the counter, a pale pink plus sign slowly darkening in the little window.

"Slow and sweet."

He smiled, sliding his hands under my butt to tip me up a little onto his groin.  He slid all the way into me, finally, and I sighed with contentment as he gripped my bottom to push himself further.  At this angle, as close as we were pressed together, all he had to do was move his hips a little to rub the base of his cock against my clit and I made a ridiculous little sound of excited surprise when he did so.  And then he started to push against me, letting me slide forward a little every time he pulled back so that there was a delicious drag of his shaft sliding across my swollen little button.

I held onto him and whispered in his ear, sometimes words, sometimes incomprehensible sounds, urging him on as he pumped slowly in and out of me, bringing us both right to the brink within just a few short minutes.  I held back, but when he lowered his mouth to my ear and his raspy voice growled _"Come, baby,"_ \- that was it for me.  That delicious clenching spasm of painful pleasure started shaking my insides and I climaxed despite my best efforts not to.  I felt him release inside me a few seconds later, the muscles of his stomach tensing and untensing, a low groan building in his chest till it spilled from his throat at the same time his semen spilled from his cock.  It all felt so wonderful that I was completely distracted by the sensations, my own wetness still oozing out around him while his began sloshing out with it, my stomach jerking with the aftershocks, his lower belly rubbing against me...I wasn't even aware that I was saying anything until I heard the words, and by the time they reached my awareness I'd already said them more times than I could remember.

_I love you Tom..._

 

We were laying crossways on the bed afterwards - he had sat me back in the sink and cleaned me up, then picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me to the bed.  I thought he would toss me onto the mattress like he usually did, but he laid me down gently and eased onto the bed next to me, on his stomach with his mouth pressed to the side of my shoulder.

"You really didn't hate me when we first met?"

"Nope."

"You sure didn't have any problem with letting me think so."

He kissed my shoulder, then gave it a little bite.  "Because _you_ hated _me._  If you thought _I_ hated _you,_ you wouldn't notice my sad puppydog eyes every time I looked at you, would you."

I thought about it for a minute, remembering my first impressions of the tall, lanky bartender that had smirked at me so annoyingly the first time I walked into the pub.  "I didn't hate you, I just...I thought you were weird...and ugly."

"And I thought you were a beautiful ray of sunshine."

"I wish I'd known that."

He snuggled in closer to me, sliding an arm across my stomach.  "No you don't.  You were happy with Sam and I wouldn't take that away from you just to have those couple of years for myself.  Besides, the animosity was fun."

"Did you spit in my coffee on the nights I insulted you?"

"Never once."

"Were you tempted?"

"Nope.  I thought about letting Ewan do it once or twice though."

"Oh god, seriously?"  I looked at him but his face was perfectly blank, betraying absolutely nothing.  "Are you telling me the truth?"

He finally laughed.  "No, I'm not telling you the truth."

"About Ewan or about the spitting in general?"

He went straightfaced again, eyes closed, pretending he was trying to go to sleep.  "Baby girl, you have swallowed my come on at least three occasions that I can name offhand and you're worried about a little bit of saliva in your coffee?"

I sat up and stared at him.  After several long moments of silence, he finally opened one eye and looked at me.  "What?"

"What did you do to my coffee?  I'm obsessed now, I have to know."

He rolled over onto his back and laid his arm over his eyes, but I could see the grin trying to take over his mouth.

"Okay, there was one thing I did.  Remember the night when Katrina laid into me in front of everybody?"

I remembered - she was his girlfriend at the time, and she had stomped into the pub and threw a bottle at him, shouting that he'd told her ex where she was.  He just stood there and took the abuse she was hurling at him, even though all of us at the back table knew he hadn't done any such thing.  Her ex had been in earlier while Tom was in the back, mad and demanding to know where she was, and some guy at the bar told him where she worked.  

"Yeah, I remember that."

He sighed heavily.  "I'd had a really shit day - Emma flipped out on me that morning, then Katrina acting like a crazy bitch in front of everyone, and when I looked past her at the table where you were sitting, there you were rolling your eyes like I was some colossal loser."

My mouth dropped open for a second, then I realized he was right...that was exactly what I'd done, but I wasn't rolling my eyes at him, it was at _her._   He propped up on his elbows and rubbed the bridge of his nose where the little bump was, where it had been broken.  "So I acted like nothing happened, because Katrina had problems, you know?  And I went to the kitchen and I made you a cup of coffee, and I added a healthy dose of cayenne pepper to it because I have never seen a redheaded person who could handle heat."  He looked at me, a little bit sheepishly before his face broke into a wide grin.  "But fuck me if you didn't come to the bar on your way out and tell me that was the best damn cup of coffee you ever had."

I busted out laughing.  "It was!"

"Yeah, totally ruined my petty little vengeance ploy.  I made it that way from then on because you liked it.  I still make it that way."

"I always wondered what the secret ingredient was - oh my god, cayenne pepper.  I would never have guessed."  I smacked his shoulder playfully.  "Well you know now that I love spicy."

"Yeah, _now_ I do."

I looked at him for a minute, loving the little smile he was wearing, hoping that maybe his memory of that shit day was a little better because of me.  "You and Katrina broke up right after that."

He shook his head.  "We were never together.  Not really.  Her ex was a psycho bastard, she needed a safe place to hide from him, I let her stay with me.  After about a year it was just easier for her to stay than to try to get out on her own again."  The smile melted away and a frown took its place.  "When that guy spilled her work details, she had to move on because he'd found her.  I put her on a plane that night and I haven't seen her since."

"Oh...shit...I had no idea.  None of us did.  We thought she was your girlfriend."

He rolled over on his side, reaching out to run a finger down my knee.  "Nope."

"I'm sorry."

He looked confused for a second.  "Why?  Things have a way of working out...look where we are now."  He held his hand up and wiggled his fingers.  I looked at his wedding ring and the bonding band on his thumb, then looked down at my own.

"Yeah...look where we are now."

I put my palm against his and tapped our rings together.  They made that high pitched clinking noise that always made me feel safe and connected to him.  When I finally pulled my eyes away from our hands and looked at his face again, he was smiling, his eyes warm and contented and unmistakably, undeniably _happy._

As I snuggled down next to him and he pulled my hand to his lips to kiss my band, the reminder beep went off on his phone.

"Oh yeah," he said tugging me up close for a hug before he sat up to shut it off and ran his hands through his hair, getting off the bed to pull his shirt on.  "I've got deliveries this morning, I need to get moving." He picked up his phone and scrolled through his appointments.  "Don't forget your doctor visit on Friday to confirm the pup, and ooh yes - "  He looked at me over his shoulder, his grin coming back slowly. "How do you feel about meeting my dad tomorrow afternoon?"

  

 _To be continued..._  


	45. Chapter 45

 

 

Tom was in the back, unloading some supplies at the alley door while Chris and I goofed off behind the bar.  He was teaching me how to open bottles on the edge of the taps and I just wasn't getting it - my hands weren't strong enough and I kept losing my grip on the bottle.  I'd just dropped my third beer on the floor when Tom appeared out of nowhere and reached across me, taking the bottle out of my hand and sliding his fingers across the top.  The cap popped off and he handed the bottle back to me with a smirk.

"How does he do that?" I asked, staring at the fog billowing off the mouth of the cold beer in my hand.  I'd seen him do it a thousand times but never figured it out - it was like he was simply pulling the cap off with his fingers.  Chris shrugged and winked at me.

"One of his many secrets."

"You know how he does it, I know you do.  Tell me!"  He grinned and walked away and I leaned over the bar whining _"Tell me tell me tell me!"_ I was so busy harassing him about it that I didn't even notice when a man walked up to the bar and sat down;  it was early in the day and we had a few people in, drinking coffee and meeting up for lunch or dates or business, and we were doing more goofing around than working. Chris headed into the kitchen laughing and I turned around, putting a napkin down in front of the customer.

"What can I get for - "

My words stopped in my throat, my mouth still open like I was intending to finish the sentence at some point.  The man smiled and for a moment _I thought I was looking at Tom._   Twenty-something years older and a little heavier, with darker skin and dark eyes and a bit of silver streaked at his temples - but he was Tom made over.  I couldn't stop staring at him and he finally laughed nervously, holding his hand out to me.

"Coffee, please.  Tommy is expecting me," he said in something very close to Tom's voice, without the accent.  I took his hand and he shook it, smiling graciously.  "I'm a bit early, sorry," he said with a shy grin as I stared at him.  "I got anxious."

I finally found my words then and stammered until I got them out.  "I'm...Anja, I'm Tom - _Tommy's_ \- wife."

His smile widened and I was taken aback again by how much he looked like him.  It was unnerving.  I thought Cara was his double, but this was uncanny.

"Tommy did well for himself," he said politely, looking around.  "His name on the building, gorgeous wife, kids."  His eyes fell very briefly to my stomach and before I even thought about it I put my hands there, subconsciously covering myself.

 _If he's weird like Tom I'm going to call foul._ I finally shook my head and dragged my eyes off his face.  "I'm sorry I'm staring, it's just...you look so much like him, it's kinda scary."

"Do I?"  There was a happy sparkle in his eyes and I suddenly remembered Tom was actually in the building somewhere.  "He looked a lot like me when he was little, but it's been a while since I've seen him.  I may have sneaked a peek once or twice when I found out he owned this place, but from a distance."  He looked at me with a keen curiosity.  "You're pretty.  He liked a little red haired girl in school when he was in second grade."

The remark surprised me a little.  "Really?  He told me once he didn't like redheads."

"He lies when he's nervous.  Or he used to."

I started laughing, thinking of Tom being nervous all those times he was insulting me.  If that one was a lie, how many of the other jabs had been as well?

"Wow, you just told me more about my relationship with him in ten seconds than I've been able to figure out for myself in eight years."

He was chuckling over the cup of coffee I'd poured him when I saw the back door open and Tom came out, his sharp eyes surveying the room quickly on his way to the front.  He was famous for always knowing everything that was going on in his pub - mentally I started counting the seconds, knowing it wouldn't take long before his gaze came straight to what he was sensing.

It took about three seconds for him to locate it.

He stopped where he stood and in that moment, that split second when his eyes found Adam, Adam turned around and looked straight at him.

_Yep, he's weird just like his kid._

They stared at each other for a long few seconds and I stood there like a fool, not having any idea what I should be doing, just looking back and forth between them.  Chris came out of the kitchen behind me and I heard him say _"Holy shit"_ under his breath.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Adam broke into a wide smile and stood up.

"Hello boy."

 

Tom's face softened and for a moment he seemed like he was trying to process something incomprehensible.  Or maybe he was just trying not to cry.  Or maybe he was freaked out about suddenly finding himself standing in front of a mirror that was showing him himself twenty years in the future.  Chris tugged on my elbow and I realized I was standing there with both hands over my mouth, watching them, perilously on the verge of tears myself till Tom finally smiled and motioned for us to follow him to the back table, where it was quieter.

I went back with them and sat at the side of the table so that I was sort of between the two men;  I really wanted to be able to see both their faces and watch how they interacted.  If they could be friends, maybe one day they could be family again, and that seemed like an extremely important thing for some reason.   _A grandpa for the maybe baby._  My stomach felt weird, like a combination of nervous and worried and excited, and I caught myself patting it soothingly without thinking as we all settled in at the table.   _You're going to feel stupid if it turns out to be an ulcer._

Tom's hand slid over under the table to rest on my knee and I reached down to squeeze his fingers.

The two men looked at each other for a long moment, then Adam leaned forward and laid his hands on the table.  I recognized the gesture immediately - it was something Laing had taught all of his proteges, an opening move to put the person on the other side of the table at ease.  I immediately thought _Huh, that's odd,_ but realized I'd said it out loud when both of them looked at me.

"The - hands, on the table.  It's a...thing.  An attorney thing."  Stammering, I waved my hand dismissively at myself.  "Sorry, go ahead."

Adam raised an eyebrow and, after a few seconds, nodded.  "You're good.  How'd you spot that?"

"What?  Oh, I worked in a law firm for a long time.  You memorize the little tricks."

Tom was watching him while I spoke and he finally spoke up himself.  "You're a lawyer?"

Adam nodded.  "Tribal law, Bureau of Indian Affairs.  I work mostly with CP and FVI."

I think I must have gasped a little and looked at Tom;  he was squeezing my knee under the table, really hard.  I knew what the abbreviations meant, and I think he did too, but he needed to hear it from Adam.

"And that's - ?"

"Child Protection and Family Violence Intervention."

Tom closed his eyes and lowered his head for a minute.  He finally nodded, a sad smile coming across his face.  "Interesting field for you to go into."

Adam nodded back, the same sad smile on his face.  "I tried to get you kids back, son.  I tried for years and years.  Nobody could help me so I studied the law, trying to find a way to make it happen myself. In the end it seemed like the right thing to do, to stay at it...if I couldn't help us maybe I could help someone else, you know?"  He fiddled absently with the coffee cup he'd carried back with him.  "By the time I worked my way through law school and finally got my guns loaded with the ammo I needed to make it happen, you were gone, both of you.  Fifteen years old and on a missing child poster and your sister locked away in a home."  He sat back, sighing heavily, his face suddenly so tragically heartbroken that it made me want to cry.  "Your mother wanted to keep me away from you and in the process she lost you herself.  A bit of ridiculous irony there."

Tom's brow furrowed like he was deep in thought, his head tilted to one side.  "She said you left."

"Yeah, I left with the police when she had me forcibly removed."  He took a deep breath and pushed one hand through his hair before speaking again.  "I was going to take you, just take you and go, and come back for your sister later.  Your mom figured out that I was desperate enough to do that and got a restraining order.  When I came back to get you she had me arrested.  I was in jail for seven months on made-up charges of domestic violence and child endangerment...all the things she ended up doing herself...the things I would never do.  She really screwed me over."

"Why?"

"She was afraid of you, Tommy.  She knew there was something different about you and it scared her.  She wanted to make you _normal_ , that was how she put it, and I was hindering your proper social development with my alternative ideas, she called it."  He laughed, bitterly.  "Said I only spoke Cree to you kids and was going to steal you and run off back to Saskachawan to give you to the tribe to raise - that I was teaching you a bunch of ghost nonsense and earth weirdness and heathen stuff...just a lot of crazy shit."  He looked up at Tom, staring at him for a long moment.  "I did teach you the ways of our people, but it wasn't like I made you live by any of it.  You were just different, Tommy.  On your own, without any influence from anyone else.  You were one of us without being taught to be."

Tom didn't say anything, but I had to.  "What was different about him?"

Adam sounded every bit the proud father as he answered my question, a wide grin brightening the scowl he'd worn just moments ago.  "He could hear the moon.  He could smell the sky.  Boy moved like the wind and spoke to the earth and it talked back.  He understood."

Tom was just sitting there, watching him while he talked.  He almost looked like he was going to cry.

"I remember.  The words you taught me.  I thought they were just shit I made up."

Adam shook his head.  "I tried to teach you everything I could, so that you'd always know you belonged somewhere.  I felt like you weren't going to fit in perfectly with the rest of the world, there was gonna be something just slightly different no matter how much she tried to assimilate you.  You didn't look like everybody else.  And you certainly weren't like everybody else on the inside.  But even before I taught you anything, you just knew.  You already knew it all, like it was just born into you."  He took a deep breath and stared down at his hands.  "She hated that worst of all, that you were this wild little untamed soul and you didn't care about fitting in.  Your sister looked like her, acted like her.  But not you."

There was a long silence, with both men staring at the empty space in the center of the table, before he finally spoke again.

"I wish I'd just taken you, you and your sister both.  None of it would have happened to you, to either of you...whatever it was that put you on that missing kid poster and sent her off to that hospital.  I'm sorry boy."

Tom took a deep breath, then slowly shook his head.

"It wasn't your fault.  You tried."

Another long silence passed, then Adam looked at Tom, his face breaking into an expression that could only be described as intense pride.  "I was telling Anja before you came out, you've done well for yourself in spite of your rough start.  Running a successful business, married, kids.  Makes my heart happy to see it.  My _mahikansak."_

Tom laughed a little and I looked from him to Adam, waiting for someone to elaborate.  They smiled at each other and Adam reached across the table to pat Tom's hand, sitting back and turning his grin to me as he pointed at him.

"My baby wolf."

 

Tom pulled out his phone, chuckling softly.  "I'm going to call Cara.  She's home today, isn't she?"  He started dialing as I nodded.  Adam was looking curious so I took it upon myself to tell him.

"Tom's daughter.  She's going to be so excited...her family keeps getting bigger.  She thought she was an orphan until not long ago."

His grin was so big it threatened to split his face in two.  "I was hoping I'd get to meet her."

We could hear Cara squealing through the phone as Tom hung up.

"Yeah, she's excited.  She'll be right down." 

 

Several hours later, so many things seemed unquestionably, inarguably right in the world.  Tom had a dad, Cara had a grandpa, and I had a father-in-law.  It was so sudden and so blindingly _right._  Adam was well spoken, extremely and obviously intelligent, and once everyone was comfortable with each other, he was full of stories about Tom's early childhood that he was more than willing to share.  It all felt really _really_ good, and somewhere halfway through the afternoon I looked over at Tom and thought he suddenly seemed a decade younger.  The sharp edge of disguised anger was gone from his face, the taut always-ready posture was relaxed and calm.  It was a beautiful thing to see.

I'd gone to the kitchen to get us all some food when he came in and slipped his arms around me from behind, hugging me tight.  I raised my arms to hook them around the back of his neck while he kissed my ear. 

"Some things about you make sense now."

"Hm?  Like what."

"You calling me girl.  He calls you boy."

"Oh, yeah.  He always did."

I turned around in his arms, feeling happy and content and more than a little relieved that everything had gone so well.  I didn't want to spoil it by saying anything about it, so I fiddled with his hand instead.  "So how do you do that thing, with the bottles."

He held his right hand up, wiggling his fingers.  All I saw was the steel band ring he always wore on his middle finger.  I gave him a confused look and he turned his hand around so I could see the other side of the band.  It had a notch cut in it for popping bottlecaps.

"Smooth," I said, shaking my head.  He grinned and tapped me on the forehead with it.

"That's me."

 

My doctors appointment was on Friday and I couldn't get Cara to go with me because she was wrapping up her final studies on the zoo wolves - it was getting close to time for her to go back home, so her days were full.  Tom had a busy morning of deliveries at the pub lined up but he didn't want me to go alone because my doctor's office was on the far side of town, so he made Ewan go with me, which was just about the last thing I could possibly want to happen to me on this day of all days.  But it was either that or cancel, and I really needed to know if Tom was right...not just because my seizure meds would need to be looked at again if I really was pregnant, but because I had taken another test the day before.  Another positive, quicker and clearer this time.  I didn't tell Tom about it, but I was excited and nervous - so nervous that when he nudged up against me from behind that night in bed, I actually pushed him away and told him I wanted to sleep.  It was the first time I'd ever done that and he was so surprised by it that he didn't even ask why.

So now it was time for an official confirmation, and Ewan was sitting next to me in the waiting room, fidgeting like a five year old and complaining about the chairs being hard, the televisions being on low volume, and the fact that he was here in the first place.  And when I was called in and picked up my purse to follow the nurse, he got up and came with me.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He grinned like a complete asshole and said Tom had told him to stay with me.  I assured him that he hadn't meant for him to attend the examination, but he told me there was no way in hell he was going to disobey.  We stood there arguing about it for several seconds when the nurse finally said he would be provided with a place to sit outside the exam room since he wasn't my husband.

"Since when do you ever obey anyway?" I growled at him as we followed her into the back.

"Since your freaking psychotic husband said he would castrate me with a cleaver if he found out I ditched you to smoke a joint in the parking lot."

The nurse cast a glance back at us over her shoulder and I slapped Ewan's arm to make him shut up.

"Just be quiet and don't cause any scenes, okay?"

"Yeah sure whatever."  He looked around, making faces that clearly indicated he didn't care much for doctors offices.  "What are we here for, anyway?  You sick?"

"No."

"Then why?"

The nurse stopped outside a closed door and handed me a cup.  "If you'll go inside there and pee in this, we'll get you started.  When you come out just put it here on the counter and go into the exam room across the hall, there will be a gown on the table for you.  Strip completely and go ahead and get on the table, the doctor will be right in to see you."

I sighed and looked at the cup.  I'd been holding my pee all morning so it was going to be a relief to finally get rid of it, but the exam wasn't something I was looking forward to...I absolutely hated internal exams, they always hurt because I tensed up and the thought of anyone seeing or touching me there - with the obvious exception of Tom - was humiliating for me.  Ewan was staring at me with his mouth open and I knew he was about to say something really dickish, so I tried to shut him down before he made my apprehension worse.

"Just shut up, fuckboy."

_"Are you pregnant?!"_

"Well that's what I'm here to find out, isn't it?"

"Oh my god are you fucking serious?!"

"Shut up!  I'll tell Tom you left and went to Arby's if you embarrass me, I swear to god - "

"Okay okay!" he conceded, laughing, holding his hands up in surrender.  "I'll just sit out here, outside the exam room door, listening to you getting your vagina handled by a strange man..."

"Shut up!!"

 

While I was in the exam room, in my flimsy little gown sitting on the cold table waiting for the doctor to come in, my phone rang.  I wasn't supposed to have it turned on in the room but I'd forgotten to switch it off.  I was going to go ahead and turn it off without answering it, figuring it was Ewan trying to mess with me some more, when I saw that the call was from Tom.  He knew I was nervous and upset, I'd told him that morning how much I hated exams.

"Hey."

"Hey baby...you okay?"

"Yeah."

"You gone in yet?"

"I'm waiting in the exam room right now."

"Are you naked?"

I looked down at the ridiculous little examination gown and sighed.  "Yeah, pretty much."

He was silent for a second, then when he spoke again his voice was quiet and soothing.  "It's going to be okay baby.  Just close your eyes and it'll be over."

For some stupid reason I started to cry and he heard me.  He shushed me and talked to me in a calming tone until I got hold of myself, then told me he loved me and asked how Ewan was behaving.  I knew he was trying to distract me and I swallowed hard, getting my tears under control.  "He's okay.  He's following orders, for once.  Did you threaten him?"

"Yes I did."

I laughed and he told me again that he loved me, and that it was going to be alright.  I nodded even though I knew he couldn't see me.

"I love you too."

"Have him bring you straight here when you're done, okay?  I'll make you some lunch."

"Okay."

"Remember babe - close your eyes.  And relax, okay?  You know how much it hurts when you tense."

I knew he was talking about sex, but the same thing applied here.  "Okay.  I'll try."

"I'll soothe it and make it better when you get home."

I laughed, trying not to get teary again.  "Good."

"I'm gonna go, okay?  I've got like twelve delivery guys here right now.  You got this?"

"I got this."

He said goodbye and I hung up, hurriedly putting my phone back in my bag when the doctor knocked on the door.  When he opened it, I could see Ewan sitting in the hall, making an exaggerated expanding motion with his hands in imitation of a speculum.  I flipped him off as the door fell shut.

"So, Mrs Heyworth," the doctor said cheerfully, handing my file to the nurse.  "It looks like your urine test came up positive, so we're going to do a quick vaginal ultrasound to get an idea of your due date."  He smiled and I felt my stomach clench up - _my due date._  It was real now...I put my hands over my face and tried hard not to cry again, but this time it wasn't because I was dreading the exam.  It was because I could already see Tom's face when he heard the news.

 

"Let me see!"

"No, Tom sees it first."

"Oh come on, I had to come with you, I should get first look."

"No."

"Please?"

"If the next one is yours then you can see it first.  Until then, no."

I put the little black and white picture in my bag and zipped it shut so he couldn't pickpocket it when I wasn't looking.  He drove me back to the pub, bugging me the whole time, but I ignored him till we got inside and I shot him a warning look, reminding him that he'd promised he would keep his mouth shut until I told Tom the news myself.  He was standing at the bar with one of the regular delivery guys, going over some paperwork, and looked up at me with a sweet smile while I took my coat off by the door.  I smiled back but tried to keep the excitement off my face.

The delivery guy signed something and handed it to him, then greeted me on his way out as Tom went around behind the bar and set a big crate down on the floor.  I went over and stood by the taps.

"Tom - "

He looked up and grinned, so big that it spread all the way across his face.

"Confirmed?"  He stood back up and leaned across the bar, reaching out his hand, waiting for me to get close enough;  when I did, he laid his hand on my stomach.  "You're pregnant."

"Um...yeah.  You knew."

"Of course I did.  I told you you smelled different.  What else would it have been?"  He tugged me toward him by the waist of my jeans and gave me a kiss, slipping his hand down inside my pants to rub my lower belly.  "What did the doctor say?"

"It's very early, but he did an ultrasound to estimate the due date and he said I'm about four to five weeks."

His grin got bigger but he didn't say anything.  I pulled the picture out of my purse and held it up in front of his face.

The absolute joy in his eyes was unreal.

He took it from my hand and just looked at it for the longest time, touching the little white bean shape in the center with one fingertip, almost reverently.  "Did you get to see it on the screen?" he asked, never taking his eyes off the picture.

"Yeah, it was already moving around, sort of twitching and jumping.  It was weird.  And I heard the heartbeat."

He laughed a little, still staring at it.  When he finally looked at me again, he reached out to touch my face the same way he'd been touching the picture.

"You've got my pup in your belly.  You know what that means, don't you?"

I nodded;  I knew what he was going to say, but I also knew he was still going to say it no matter what.  His voice was so seductive and dominant and overpoweringly _alpha_ when he spoke again, I felt myself go hot between the legs despite how sore I was from the exam.

_"It means you're my bitch."_

 

"Pup!" he announced as he put the picture up on the board behind the bar.  Ewan came running and Chris came out of the kitchen with two delivery guys - they all gathered around the board, gawking at the picture, oohing and ahhing like a group of women while he took me by the hand and led me to the back, locking the door behind us.  He grabbed me up in his arms and held me so tight I almost couldn't breathe.

"I'm sorry you had to do the exam," he said softly, rubbing my back slowly.  "Did you get through it okay?"

I nodded against his chest, inhaling the smell of his skin and some kind of really good whiskey.  He and the delivery guys always had a drink of whatever new stuff they brought on delivery day.  "It wasn't horrible..."  I looked up at him and he gave me a sympathetic little smile.  "Okay, yeah it was horrible.  I just can't relax when it's not you."

"Aww, baby..." 

He stroked my stomach with his fingers for a moment and then moved them upward, letting his hand stray to my breast where he gave me a squeeze.  I flinched and he laughed softly.  "They're bigger already."

"You're going to love this, aren't you."

"Every damn second of it."  He continued groping me playfully while I grabbed at his wrists, trying to make him stop.  "No more tight bra for you - you need to let them breathe."

"Ouch."

"Are they sore already?"

"Yes, they are, so stop it."

He smirked at me, wiggling his fingers in front of my chest until I laughed and stepped away from him.  He scooped me back against him with my back to his chest before I could get too far, holding me tight, rubbing his hands up and down on my stomach.  "Did you get your meds adjusted?"

"Yeah.  I hate to keep taking that stuff now, it worries me." 

"She'll be fine."

I wasn't sure for a second that I'd heard him right.  "She?"

"That's what Emma said, isn't it?  When has she ever been wrong?"

"Yeah.  True."  I thought about it for a second, trying to remember everything she'd said to me.  "Oh god - three?"

"Three."  He laughed.  "Guess that means we'll be having two girls to add to Cara.  Hopefully for your sake they'll come separately."

"Will Emma ever get to meet them?"

He was quiet for a moment, hugging me tighter to him.  "I don't know...probably not."

"That's so unfair."

"I know.  But I don't think she remembers us in between visits.  I think she just retreats back into her little world and is happy in there.  We're just wraiths that pop out of the closet every now and then to upset things."

"So she forgets us every time we leave?"

"I think so.  I think the only active memory she keeps of me is from when I was nine.  She's got it in her head now that I never made it past that, so that's what she's holding onto of me.  This - " he motioned toward his face - "this doesn't mean anything to her.  She can't comprehend it.  I think that's why she was so freaked out last time, asking why I wasn't nine.  She can't see me as an adult."

"Is your dad having the same effect on her, you think?"

"I don't see how he couldn't be.  Hopefully his visits aren't traumatizing her as much as mine do."

"Maybe he stays in the hall like you."

"Maybe.  But she's seen him enough to think she was dreaming of me as an old man."

"I've only seen him once and I feel like _I've_ seen you as an old man.  Well, old _er._  He still looks pretty young."

He rocked me a little, his chin resting on my shoulder while he rubbed my stomach.

 _"My mahikansak,"_ he said quietly as his fingers ghosted over the tiny little bulge between my hipbones.

 

We snuck out the back and he took me home, barely getting me into the house before he had me on the floor right inside the door where the coats always fell off the rack;  it made a nice comfortable spot for him to lay me on and I watched him as he sat up between my legs, wrestling me out of my yoga pants and sliding my panties down.  He looked really serious, like he was on a very important mission, and I put one foot on his chest to tickle him with my toes.  He finally smiled and grabbed my ankle, bending his head down to bite it.

"You look so serious."

"This is serious work."

"Oh?"

"Yeah - my girl did something big and important today all by herself, and I promised I would soothe it when she got home."

I smiled up at him as he stroked his hands up and down my legs.  "Will you go with me to my monthly checkups?"

He nodded, one hand sliding further up my thigh to tickle me with a finger, right where I was most ticklish.  When I squirmed, he suddenly pushed my legs apart and nudged his face against the inside of my knee, dragging his tongue slowly upward till it found that ticklish bit as well.

"I'll go with you to every one," he murmured, pushing his mouth up between my legs, his warm soft tongue exploring my folds for a moment before slipping inside with a groan.  I relaxed as soon as his mouth touched me, finally calm and untensed for the first time all day.  As he licked me gently, kneeling between my knees with one hand under my bottom and the other up under my shirt playing teasingly with my breasts, the only thing going through my head was _this man loves me and there's a baby right under his head._

It was just too weird and I started giggling.  He popped his head up to give me a questioning look, one eyebrow hitched almost comically.

"You've developed a sense of humor about having your pussy licked," he scolded, moving both arms down to hook them under me, pinning my hips with his hands.  He wasted no time pushing his face back into me again, this time bringing his tongue quickly up to my clit to start torturing me with languorous little licks and hard sucks directly to my most sensitive spot.  I groaned, but couldn't stop thinking about what Adam had told me.

"He said you lie when you're nervous."

"What?"  His voice was muffled, his mouth buried in my crotch.

"You liked a little red haired girl in second grade and you told me you don't like redheads."

Without moving his head, he mumbled "Just assume everything I said to you before we got together was a lie."

I grabbed his hair and tried to tug his head up, but he wouldn't budge.

"When did the lies stop?"

"Shhh..."

I tugged again but only succeeded in making him moan.  He returned the favor by flicking my clit with the tip of his tongue, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

_"Tell me when they stopped."_

He sighed, laying his head on my thigh.  "I believe my first truthful statement to you was _'I already have'."_  He looked up at me, a comical sort of frustration etched in the arch of his eyebrows.

"When was that?"

"When you asked if I was going to claim you."

I thought about it for a moment, trying to recall the conversation.  "The first night we slept together...?"

He nodded, eyeing my crotch again.

"Did you know then that I was going to be yours?  Is that why you stopped lying to me?"

"I'm trying to suck a cunt here, do you mind not talking so much?  You're throwing my concentration off."

"So you stopped being nervous with me as soon as I invited you into my house?  You said you weren't a vampire, you were _still_ lying!"

 _"I said - stop talking!"_ He gave me a sharp nip on the inside of my thigh and I squealed, arching up so that my thighs bumped his ears.  He looped his arms around them to hold me still, but after a heavy sigh of pure exasperation he raised his head again and looked up at me.  "The only lies I ever told you were when I was trying to keep you from realizing I liked you.  So any time I made fun of your hair or said you were too short or shook my head as you walked by, that was me hoping you didn't figure out that I wanted to feel your hair fall across my face as I kissed you, or that you were the perfect height to tuck into the middle of my chest when I hugged you, or that the way you walked was giving me a serious hard on."  He smiled, a bit shyly, resting his chin on my hipbone as his fingers drew a lazy heart shape on my stomach. "You weren't mine to think those things about.  So the lies were more to myself than to you."

I stared at him for a long while, not saying anything.  There wasn't anything to say...nothing that came to mind in that moment, anyway.  Then he grinned and dipped his head back down between my legs again, and as his tongue began slowly lapping at me, I felt giddy with the sudden realization that our baby's grandpa was going to be a _major_ source of enlightenment.

"Hey," Tom said sharply, raising a hand to snap his fingers at me.  "I'm working here, pay attention."  He sat up and began unbuckling his jeans, and as I watched him, one thing became very certain.

I'd told a fib or two in the beginning, myself.

 

_To be continued..._

 


	46. Chapter 46

 

The morning sickness and general moodiness began quicker than I expected.

I had a rough couple of days and we were having trouble adjusting our sex schedule - we always did it first thing in the morning, and usually every night before we went to sleep, but I started being less and less in the mood and was having issues with what felt like sea sickness every time he started rocking against me.  I developed an aversion to it really quickly, and the scent of his skin - and even my own - sometimes triggered a sudden and violent nausea attack.  He knew I was telling the truth, there were very few times in our relationship that I had ever turned him down for sex, and whenever it happened he went through a funny little checklist with me...could he do me?  If the answer was no, then could he do himself?  If it was yes, could I help him?  If that was no, should he go in the bathroom?  I felt bad about telling him no on any of it but he took it without getting upset.   _It'll get better,_ he assured me.   _We'll just wait it out._

Until the morning I completely freaked on him for thrusting against my butt while I was asleep.

It was an innocent thing, something he always did, but it usually led to sex and I was still very tired, very sleepy, and in no mood to even think about it.  I woke up about halfway and pushed back with my arm, lodging it against his face to shove him off me.  He was behind me, against my back, and I scooted away from him with the blanket pulled up over my head.  He knew if the blanket went up, he should back off.

But this time he didn't follow the rule.

A few seconds later he was up against me again and I shoved back with my butt.  "Stop it," I whined, feeling really queasy and unhappy.  "I don't feel like it."  He mumbled something and I felt his hand slide over my hip, pulling me back against him.  I couldn't believe he wasn't stopping when I asked him to and I sat up, grabbing his wrist and throwing his hand off me.

"Get out!"

He opened his eyes and stared at me for a minute, then blinked hard.  "What?  Why?"

"Get out of the bed, I don't want you here!"

"Huh?"  He looked genuinely confused but I was furious by now and got up on my knees in the bed, pushing him toward the edge.

"Get out!  Go to the couch!"

"Alright, alright," he fussed, sitting up on the edge of the bed rubbing his face.  I put my feet on his back and gave him a hard push till he stood up and turned around to give me a nasty look. "Settle down, I'm going."

"Take your pillow, it smells like you!"  I threw it at him and he caught it, still looking at me like I was about to get a slap.  "Here, have a blanket too."  I hurled a blanket at him, then another one, and he just stood there letting me pelt him with the bedding until finally he shook his head and walked out.

I was so mad and so nauseated that I just curled up on the now blanketless bed and had myself a little meltdown.  It was ridiculous and I knew it - but I didn't really care.

 

Later in the day I felt better so I got up and walked to the pub.  I got a strange look from Tom when I walked in, like he wasn't sure if it was safe to talk to me or not, and I guess he decided better safe than sorry because he didn't say anything.  My mood had flipped from anti-everything to very pro-married relations and I went straight to the back, giving him a come hither look as I let the door fall shut behind me.  He was there in just a few seconds, cautiously sticking his head in the door before entering.

"Is it safe?"

"Come here."

He obeyed, still giving me that sideways look that said he didn't trust me.  I reached up to slip my arms around his neck and he looked down at me suspiciously for a second before finally lowering his head to kiss me.

It was just a few moments before we were grinding against each other, and I had his pants unbuckled and pushed down and my dress was up around my waist.  He pulled the top down and was arching his back to get down low enough to suck at my breasts when I heard him make a frustrated little grunting sound. 

"Hold on baby I'm not completely hard yet, gimme a second."

I looked down between us.  "What's wrong?"

"Oh I dunno, I think maybe I'm still just a little bit _raw_ about being kicked out of bed this morning."

I laughed as I pushed my panties down and stepped out of them.  "Well I told you no and you still kept on."

He got a hurt look on his face and made another frustrated noise at me as he watched.  "Baby I was asleep, you know I rut against you when I'm asleep."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I did!  You just kept throwing blankets at me."

"Aww."

I reached down and put my hand around him, helping him with gentle strokes until he asked me to do it harder.  I always started out too soft but he never corrected me, and more often than not I would look up and catch him staring at my face with an expression I could only call blissful adoration.  Eventually his eyes would drift shut and his head would fall back slowly, the plea _Harder...please baby..._  ghosting from his lips.

It was unbearably sexy and now I started out too soft just to see it happen.

But this time I gave him his wish quickly and in seconds he had me up against the wall, my legs up around his hips as he lowered me swiftly down onto his fully stiff cock, our grunts and moans drowning out the sounds of the lunchtime crowd as I made it up to him, one thrust at a time.

 

Adam was coming down from San Bernardino every few days to visit us and get to know Tom again.  He had relocated there after years of searching for his kids had finally led him to San Diego;  the charges of abuse and endangerment filed against him by Tom's mother had kept CPS from giving him any information on either of them, but he'd finally gained access to Emma's foster records and located her.  Finding Tom was more difficult - he had dropped off the official records at fifteen when he ran away from his last foster home, and the care facility wouldn't release any of Emma's private records to him so he couldn't get an address that way.  It had taken more than a year of scouring public records before he found his son's name on a business license.

He told us he'd been visiting Emma for about a year beginning shortly after he found out where she was.  Tom had long ago had her records sealed to anyone but himself, so all Adam could find out through the staff was that she'd suffered a psychological break and that her brother handled her care decisions.  Based on the exclusive nature of the facility, he had drawn the conclusion that Tom must be a man of adequate means, and started searching business records.  Eventually the day came when he stood outside the pub, staring at his son's name on the side of the red brick building, catching just a glimpse of a tall dark haired man with a far too familiar face talking to customers at a window table.

And then Tom had called him, after that chance encounter with the clerk in Big Bear while we were on our honeymoon.  Adam was living in San Bernardino by then, just below Big Bear, and had stayed there at the inn in the little village while he was doing his research on his kids.  If I hadn't had to pee on our way down off the mountain, we'd have never known he'd been there.  He confided to me that if Tom hadn't called him, he might never have approached him - he was obviously doing well and didn't need a twenty-years absent father coming back into his life.

I liked Adam, a lot - he was easygoing and very good natured, with a happy outlook despite the nightmare he'd gone through.  He had a much better disposition than Tom, and told me Tom had always been that way...his surly wolf pup, he had called him when he was little.  Quiet and observant and easy to get along with until you angered him, and then god help you.  He looked at me with concern in his eyes for a long moment after saying that.  "Is he good to you?" he finally asked.  There was a hopeful lilt to his voice, softening a potentially hard question.  Tom had been through so much, seen so much abuse and maltreatment.  It would be easy - and understandable - for him to turn out abusive.

"He's really good to me," I assured him.  "Really, _really_ good to me.  Better than he needs to be."

Adam smiled, nodding as he squeezed my hand.

"Good."

 

It might have been the hormones, or maybe I was still evolving to be more like Tom as far as sensing things, but all morning I'd had the disconcerting sensation of impending - what?  Not doom...not anything that drastic.  Impending irritation, maybe, but that wasn't altogether unusual since I was getting so moody lately.  We needed groceries and Cara volunteered to go by herself because I was acting, in her words, "kinda off", but I wasn't about to start being left at home for bad behavior.  I even managed to hold it together for the entire time we were in the store, though it was touch and go there for a few minutes when we passed the fresh seafood display.

We were finished and heading toward checkout with our cart full of food when she remembered Tom's frosted flakes and went back to get them, leaving me near the registers by myself.

"I barely recognized you, Miss Black."

The familiar voice didn't even startle me - I just closed my eyes and shook my head.  I knew this day would come, that sooner or later Laing and I would cross paths again.  If it had been me that saw him, I'd have kept walking...but not Laing.  He could never keep walking.  He also obviously couldn't bring himself to call me Mrs Heyworth, either.

"Hello Mr Laing."

There was a low chuckle as he stepped around in front of me, resting a hand on my cart in a non-aggressive stance meant to keep me from moving away from him.  I recognized it instantly - he did it with people's chairs in the boardroom.  As long as he was standing beside you with his hand on the back of your chair, you would sit there forever without moving.  "You still refuse to call me Robert.  You don't work for me anymore, Anja."

"You said Robert was what I called you when we were alone."  I glanced purposefully around at the other shoppers.  "We're not alone."

"And a shame that is."  He looked me over, very obviously giving me a complete up-and-down assessment before quirking his eyebrow in an almost confused expression, iced with a small shake of his head. "You don't look the same."

I raised an eyebrow back at him, giving him a similar once-over.  "Neither do you.  No $4,000 suit or $800 shoes, but I see you still wear the $200 cologne no matter where you go."  I crinkled up my nose in exaggerated distaste, though not entirely a dishonest reaction - the scent was making me queasy.  "Isn't Creed a little fancy for the grocery store?"

He gave me an indulgent smile.  "What about you?  Don't you think biker boots and a leather jacket are a bit...east end...for this part of town?"

I looked down at my boots, the ones Tom got me with zippers so I wouldn't have to tie my laces, and thought _oh no he didn't!_  I pulled the front of my jacket shut - it was actually Tom's jacket, I had grabbed it out of habit because I liked being able to smell him when he wasn't with me - and gave him a defiant look.  He laughed a little and his face softened.

"Well you seem healthy enough and happy enough, your cheeks are rosy and you're putting on weight.  I didn't know you had freckles."  He pointed at my face, indicating my lack of makeup.  I saw his eyes move to my hair, which I hadn't bothered to comb yet today.  Self consciously I tried to smooth it with my hands as he watched, a look of something like pity coming to his face.  "He's made you into a clone of himself, hasn't he?"

I didn't understand what he meant, but it made me mad.  He didn't have any right to talk about Tom, not in any context.  He shouldn't even be talking to _me._

Cara chose the perfect moment to come back and toss a box of cereal into the cart.  "What's up?" she asked, giving Laing the same up and down look he and I had been giving each other in her absence.

"This is Mr Laing, I used to work for him."

Cara's expression dropped instantly into a cold mask of pure naked dislike.  "Oh yeah?  Come on mom, we're done."

Laing's eyebrows shot up.  "Mom?  So you must be the daughter from New Mexico."

"Yeah, that's me."  She was pulling our cart toward the checkout lane, obviously not interested in wasting any time talking to him.  "You shouldn't be bothering her, if my dad finds out you even _looked_ at her - "

"Yes, I've met your father.  He's quite the character."  He grinned, absently running his fingers over the bridge of his nose where Tom had broken it.  "At least he seems to be feeding her well, I've never seen her look this... _healthy."_

Cara stopped and spun around to glare at him.  "Wait a second, are you calling her _fat?_  Fuck you mister, she happens to be pregnant."

The grin widened as he turned his gaze back to me.  He was enjoying this far too much and all I wanted was to get out.  

"Come on Cara, let's go."

"Well congratulations are in order, it would seem."  He was still holding onto my cart and I kicked the wheel to make it lurch forward, out of his grip.

"No thanks," I said, as sugared sweet and sarcastic as I could muster.

Before I realized what he was doing, he had reached out and taken the front of my jacket in his hand, opening it so he could see my stomach.  I jerked away and Cara stepped in between us, shoving him backwards with a solid slam to his chest with both hands.

_"Don't fucking touch her ever again."_

There was a disconcerting moment of deja vu when I heard those words, the memory of Tom standing between me and Eric outside the pub, snarling that same threatening string of words at him.  Looking at the back of Cara's head, with her long black hair that looked just like her dad's, it was like being there all over again.

"Come on Cara let's go, please _please_ let's just go," I begged.  She wasn't backing down and I could see her hands were balled up in fists at her sides.

Laing was laughing, but stepped back out of our way finally.  "Like father like daughter," he said, shaking his head as we hurried past him.  "Congratulations on the baby, Anja - I guess he's succeeded in making you permanently into his sweet little sub after all."

 

"Please don't tell your dad," I pleaded quietly when we were halfway home.  "He'll go hunt him down and it'll be ugly."

"Grandpa's a lawyer, maybe he can do something."

"Cara, no - there's been a shitload of laws broken on both sides of this thing, all it'll take is one side committing just one more crime and the whole thing will end up in court or jail or a graveyard.  Just leave it alone."

She looked over at me with obvious frustration.  "But he's not supposed to come near you, wasn't that the arrangement?"

"The arrangement was that he not mess with us anymore.  It didn't specifically state he couldn't talk to me in public."

"For god's sake mom, it's _inferred - "_

"I know."

She sighed and I knew she was struggling with her temper.  She was so much like Tom.  "He touched you!  He's gotta know that's not allowed."

"He didn't, actually...just my coat."

"That's close enough."  She looked over at me again, frowning just like Tom always did, with that deep furrowed line between her eyebrows. "Fine, I won't tell him, so long as _you_ do.  I mean it, you tell him or I will."

I nodded, sighing with resignation.  This was going to be bad, I could tell already.

 

When we got home Tom was there, watching TV with his feet up on the coffee table;  Cara put the groceries away and went straight to her room, shooting me a look that said I better keep my end of the deal. Tom gave me a look of his own, but didn't ask what was going on - too many moody females in his house made him nervous and he never asked questions when either of us was stomping around or slamming doors.  When both of us did it, he usually just got up and quietly went back to the pub.

I finished putting stuff away and went over to where he was kicked back on the sofa, taking his beer out of his hand and setting it down on the coffee table as I slid into his lap, my knees on either side of him.

"Hello my big handsome."

He grinned, pushing his fingers up into my hair as he cupped my face in his palms.  "Hello pretty baby."

A few kisses later we took it to the bedroom and a little bit of relaxed missionary relations turned quickly into hot wolf-style sex, thanks to my rapidly shifting hormones and his willingness to follow me anywhere it went.   _Anywhere it went_ ended up being at least three different positions before we finally ended it with our hands over each other's mouths and the sheets ripped off the bed.  I lay there next to him staring at the fitted bottom sheet draped over the headboard, wondering with mild confusion how it got there, when he reached out and booped my nose with his finger.

"I don't guess I need to ask if that was good for you.  I can just call the neighbors, I'm sure they'll tell me."

"Oh god.  I'm fairly certain your daughter hates us."  I covered my face, suddenly aware that this was probably the best time to tell him what had happened - he was relaxed and happy, so he'd be less inclined to get angry easily, and he was naked and tangled up in what was left of the top sheet, so he'd be less likely to want to get up and go hunt Laing down.  I bit my finger to focus myself and watched his eyes narrow when I did it.  "We saw somebody in the store."

"Was it Laing?"

"We - what?"  I stared at him with my mouth open.  "How did you know?"

"If it was anyone else you wouldn't have to sugar me up with sex before you told me."

Burying my face in the pillow, I groaned until he pulled my hair and made me look at him.  "So, what happened?  Did he do anything to you?"

"No, he just thought it would be fun to bug me, I guess.  He implied _heavily_ that I was letting myself go, till Cara got in his face and told him to leave me alone."

"That's my girl."

"Yeah...you'd have been proud of her, she hurled a few f-bombs at him before she finally got between us and pushed him away from me.  She is _definitely_ your daughter.  Such a mouth."

He grinned, but it faded quickly.  "Did he touch you?"

"No, not really - just the front of my jacket, she told him I was pregnant because he was sorta calling me fat and I guess he wanted a look at my stomach."

"He called you fat?"

"Yes!"  I realized suddenly that I probably should have been at least a little bit angered by Laing's rude insinuations, but at the time I was just praying that we'd get out of the grocery store without the police being called.  "Well...he didn't  _really,_ he just said you were feeding me well and he'd never seen me this _healthy_ before.  Jackass."

Tom laughed a little, shaking his head and sighing.  "Well, as long as he didn't do anything to you, I'm not going to worry about it.  He has to buy groceries too I guess."

"Yeah, and that's what he was doing - he wasn't just there like he followed us or anything, he had a basket of stuff."

"Okay."

I stared at him for a moment, waiting for a delayed reaction or slow burn that would end up in an explosion, but neither seemed to be coming.  "Wow, you took that a lot better than I expected you to," I finally teased, tickling his face with a strand of his own hair.

He grinned, looking at me out of one eye.  "The sex was a lot better than I expected it to be."

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	47. Chapter 47

 

"I'm starting to feel like you - I can smell _everything._  How do you live like this?"

"You get used to it."

"But everything makes me want to throw up."

He rubbed my stomach, jostling me just a little bit more than I felt comfortable with until I whined for him to stop.  Everything, every little movement, every smell and every temperature shift made me feel so unsettled, like any change in my environment or even so much as the thought of Tom touching me at the wrong moment would send me running to the toilet.  I grabbed his fingers and bent them backwards until he stopped rubbing me.

"I'm going to take you to the cabin.  You want to go?"

I forgot for a second about the queasiness, instantly excited and making up my mind without even having to think about it, nodding and squealing _Yes!!_ as he carefully extricated his fingers from my grip. Laughing a little, he sat up under me, kissing me very softly till finally I melted against him and just let him hold me.  I'd been tense and rigid since I woke up that morning but it started melting away as soon as his arms went around me, and I finally felt at ease again.  He had one of two effects on me lately - he either made me feel better or he made me feel worse.  This time he made me feel better, and I relaxed against his chest, listening to his heart pounding.  I frowned at how hard it sounded, like it was struggling, but decided not to say anything just yet and hid my face against his shirt so he couldn't see me.  "How long can we stay?"

"As long as you want."  He turned his face away to cough, wheezing for a few seconds before he caught his breath again.  I sighed and tilted my head up, putting my hands on his face to make him look at me.

"You're having trouble breathing again."

"I could use some fresh air, yeah.  The mountains will be good."

I nodded, trying not to look worried about him;  he hated for me to worry, but he was between steroid treatments and his nights had been a struggle as his lungs adjusted to the healing tissue.  It had been so long since he'd been able to breathe properly, he couldn't get used to suddenly having enough oxygen.  I couldn't imagine being so sick for so long that getting well actually hurt.

But he didn't care about any of that.  All he cared about was me and the baby and making sure we were both okay.  He'd made my doctors all do workups on me, gauging the medications for my seizures, taking me off things I no longer needed and adjusting the doses on the others so that everything was right for me and safe for the baby.  We talked with them about me delivering at home, till we got the okay from all of them.  He left nothing to chance and even less to guesswork.

And then he brought me home and we talked about it, between us, without any doctors or specialists.

"Is this something you want to do, Anja?"  He was looking at me expectantly and I knew, I knew he wanted my answer to be yes, but he also wanted the truth.  If I said no, he would accept it and never ask me again.

I didn't have any problem at all giving him the answer he wanted.

 

On our way up to the mountains, I noticed he was fidgeting a lot as he drove;  he seemed edgy and unsettled, so I thought I would play with him a little to calm him down.

"Look, look babe, look - "  I unbuttoned the top three buttons of my shirt and pulled it down, showing him my new excessively, ridiculously puffy cleavage.  Thanks to the hormonal overload, my boobs had gone up another cup size and he had happily discovered that his obsession with my breasts could only get worse.  He glanced over at me and raised an eyebrow.

"Nice.  What are you doing?"

"Look, look."  I opened another button and pulled my shirt down further, showing him the lacy edge of my bra.  I'd had to buy a new one to fit my increasing size and Cara had made me get one of the outrageously impractical lace ones.   _Dad'll love it,_ she insisted.  All I knew was it itched and my boobs were always popping out of it when I bent over.  I jiggled my chest a little and he laughed.

"The goods are impressive but your delivery is off.  Presentation is everything."

Pouting, I closed my shirt and gave him a petulant look.

"No no, open it back up."  He looked over at me again and I noticed his expression had changed to the one I usually saw when he was thinking about going to bed.  "Show me those luscious tits."

I didn't obey immediately and he reached over, tugging the top of my shirt out of my hand.  I watched as his eyes went down to the exposed tops of my breasts, trying not to giggle as he snaked a finger down into one of the lacy cups to pop my nipple out.  His eyes narrowed for a moment and I heard his breathing shift.

We were far enough out of town that there were no houses or businesses and he pulled over, leaning across the gearshift the second he put the car in park, tugging me toward him and yanking the front of my bra down to expose me to his suddenly hungry eyes.  He wasted no time dipping his head down and taking one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking it while he rubbed the other one with his thumb.

"You're going to have to do me if you keep that up," I groaned, holding onto his shoulders to brace myself.  He was being really aggressive and kept pushing me backwards as he groped at me.  He shook his head and switched to my other breast, drawing a gasp from me as he grabbed hold of my nipple with his teeth.  They were getting very sore and sensitive already from the hormones, but I found the pain intensely arousing.   _"Harder,"_ I urged him, grabbing at his hair to pull him closer.

"No fucking in the car," he murmured, slurping at my breast as I tried to lean back.  "I'm too big, it's way too uncomfortable.  Plus you'd get a gearshift in your ass."

"Ooh."

"No."

I pouted again as he sat back up, pushing his hair back off his face.  It was so long now that it came to the middle of his back and was wavy and beautiful - everybody touched it, and it had started making me jealous for some reason.  I didn't want anyone touching him but me.  But people were drawn to him, something about him made both men and women want to put their hands on him or stand close to him or stroke his hair, rub his back...and he loved being touched so much, I knew he craved it, so he let them.  But I felt myself seethe just a little every time somebody got close to him.  He was mine, and I'd started marking him to remind people of it.  As he settled back in behind the steering wheel, I reached across and stroked my finger down the purplish red suck mark on the side of his neck.   _My_ mark.  He smiled at me, that squinty eyed half smile that usually told me I was going to be in trouble.

"Open your britches."

A delighted shiver went through me and I obeyed immediately, lifting my hips up so I could unzip my jeans.  I was still in my regular clothes but they were getting tight...just a few more weeks and I'd have to buy some maternity pants.  I didn't know if I was looking forward to that or not.  Tom watched me while he drove, his eyes darting over to check my progress until I had my pants unzipped and open - I knew what he was going to do, so I tugged them down a little to give his hand room.  He had big hands, he needed the space.

When I looked over at him I noticed he was doing the same with his.

I scooted over as close to the gearshift as I could, shifting down in my seat to give him better access to me.  As soon as I was settled he reached across and stroked his fingers over my lower stomach, just briefly, before sliding his hand down into my panties.

I could barely reach him, but I stretched my arm across and did the same.

He made me come easily, after just a few minutes of stroking me;  I was already highly aroused from him playing with my breasts so it didn't take long.  But he stopped me before he got too close himself, making me take my hand away just as his cock started to twitch.  I gave him a look that I'm sure was a mixture of confusion and disappointment as he grinned at me.

"I'm driving, babe.  This isn't something you want to have to explain to the cops."  He reached over and booped my nose.  "You can finish me when we get there."

I kept my hand in his lap for the rest of the trip, just touching him, keeping his interest firmly directed to me.

 

The cabin looked exactly the way we'd left it after our honeymoon - the boots I'd borrowed while we were there were still standing next to the bed where I'd left them.

"Nobody's been here," I said, looking around.  "Doesn't he ever come to check on the place?"

Tom shook his head, glancing around from where he was crouched in front of the fireplace, getting a fire started.  "I don't think he has the time.  He's talked about selling it."

"Oh no, I hope he doesn't.  I love this place."  I caught him looking at me, a sweet smile on his face as he watched me move around the single room, dusting things off.  "You should buy it.  You have the money, don't you?"  I was teasing, but once I'd said it I realized I wished he would.  I'd felt really happy and content when we were here last.  It was here that we'd decided to have a baby, and now we were back again and I was pregnant.  The place seemed to be good for us.

He didn't answer, just kept working on the fire until he had it blazing, the warmth starting to spread across the room quickly till the chill was gone.  When he saw me taking off my coat, the look in his eyes shifted again quickly back to the look he'd had in the car, and in the space of a few seconds he had come up and caught me around the waist with one long arm, lifting me while I squealed and squirmed, and tossed me onto the bed.

"I said you could finish me when we got here," he reminded me, reaching down to unzip his jeans again as his his eyes held a heated gaze with mine.  "So get busy, girly."

Excited, I wriggled away from him and got up on my knees, tugging my jeans down and kicking them off onto the floor before I yanked my shirt off and reached around behind my back to unhook my bra.  His hungry eyes watched me the entire time until I dropped the bra and shimmied out of my panties.  I was completely naked in front of him in just a few seconds and his eyes drifted shut, his mouth falling open as his breath caught in his throat, and after a moment his head dropped back and he groaned.

I stared at him in confusion for a second before I realized what had just happened.

"What...?  Did you just - ?"

He fell over onto his back on the pillows, covering his face with his hands.   _"Fuck_...I'm sorry girl."

"Are you serious?!"  I started laughing and grabbed his stomach, tickling him.  "Oh my god you did."  He rolled over away from me, groaning with his hands still over his eyes while I tried hard not to embarrass him and failed miserably.  "Well that's never happened before."

"Shut up.  You've never been pregnant before."

I stared at his back for a minute, working it out in my head while I combed his hair through my fingers, trying to relax him;  he looked like he was going to crack apart at the seams, he was suddenly so tense. "Are you telling me you have a pregnant woman fetish?"

He scrubbed at his face with his hands and sighed heavily.  "I think I might, yeah."

"So...you're telling me we're going to have a premature ejaculation problem for the next five months?"

"Shut up!"  He groaned again, but started to laugh when he peeked out from between his fingers and saw me struggling to control a giggling fit.  "You're cruel."

"What?  All I did was take my bra off."

"Yeah, well, your tits are bigger and...softer, and...I dunno, your nipples are all red and puffy and big and...fuck, I'm gonna blow again."  He covered his eyes and I glanced down.  He wasn't kidding - he was stiffening again.  I tugged the blanket up to cover myself so he could pull himself together.  "I think it's partly the way you smell, too...I can smell you before I'm anywhere near you."

"What's it like?"

"It's like...a deep, heavy, underlying scent, like sex and incense in the back room of a head shop."

"What's a head shop?"

"It's where you buy weed."

"I smell like a weed shop?"

"No - good grief Anja, sometimes I think you were raised in a fucking convent."

I scowled at him and scooted off the bed, pulling my clothes back on while he laid there with his arm over his face.  I knew he was probably embarrassed, but he wasn't doing anything to merit my sympathy. I went outside and stood on the porch, inhaling the icy air coming in off the creek, and when I looked down I saw tracks in the dirt leading up to the steps that hadn't been there when we'd arrived.  I wanted to run inside and tell Tom to come look, but when I pushed the door open I could hear him snoring quietly on the bed.  I decided to let him sleep...there would be plenty of time for him to go say hi to our neighbors in the hills.  Something told me he needed the rest.

 

We tried again, later, after he'd spent some time outside chopping wood and gathering kindle.  He came back in and grinned at me, that wicked grin that always meant I was about to be ravished, and I put my book down and watched him finish stacking the wood.  Just looking at him was more than enough to turn me on and by the time he had the fireplace stoked I was ready for him.

"Take your clothes off baby, let me see that gorgeous body."

"Are you sure?"  I hesitated, wondering if he had himself under control enough for this - maybe the nap had been what he needed?  I did as I was told, stripping out of my shirt quickly, noticing how his expression shifted as soon as it was gone, his eyes locking hotly to my breasts.  But when I kicked out of my pants and stood back up, his eyes fell to my stomach and his entire demeanor changed from excited arousal to urgent lust.  He had me on my back on the bed in a matter of seconds, frantically reaching between us to remove his own pants, but the moment his stiff cock fell against my thigh I felt him come.

He groaned, a low sound caught somewhere between intense pleasure and extreme aggravation, his body trembling on top of me as it did what it wanted without his permission.  I felt so sorry for him...but it was funny, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing as I stroked his hair and told him it was okay.

"Bloody _fucking hell - "_

I covered my mouth with my hand so he wouldn't hear me trying to compose myself.  His face was against the side of my neck and I could hear him breathing hard, struggling to rein himself back in, but he'd already emptied on my legs and was getting soft again.  I reached down to touch him but he grunted a stern _Uh uh,_ so I moved my hands around his back instead, patting and soothing him.

After a minute he rolled over off me and I lay beside him, just looking at him.  I felt bad for him but I knew this wasn't fatal - he was young, it happened to all guys from time to time, right?  But sex was such a big part of _us,_ it felt a little bit overwhelming and I finally found the sympathy that my earlier amusement had prevented.

"I'm sorry, baby," I said as comfortingly as I could, scooting closer so that my nose pressed into his shoulder.  "It's okay, you haven't been feeling well."

He shook his head, huffing out a bitter little laugh.  "I'm fine.  Your hormones are fucking with me."

His curt response irritated me a little and I thumped the underside of his chin.  "Well at least _something_ is fucking around here."

I expected him to reply just as saltily, but all he did was turn his head and look at me without saying anything.  His eyes went to my breasts, following his fingers as he turned over onto his side and traced a lazy circle around my nipple.  "You're just so fucking beautiful...you always have been, but now - you're an entirely new level of sexy now."

I watched his eyes.  They'd gone soft, and I knew he was honestly admiring me.  "Really?  Because I kinda feel like I'm at an awkward stage.  I don't look full blown pregnant yet, it's like _well is she knocked up or is she just getting fat?"_

He laughed, sliding his hand down to my stomach, caressing the bump that was starting to be very visible.  "You're at a gorgeous stage.  Right where I can look at you and think holy shit, look at what I did."

"Oh so that's it - you get off on being responsible for this. _I'm a real he-man now, I impregnated a female, look at me I'm virile arrrgh."_

He put his hand over my face and pinched my nose shut.  "Quiet, wench."

I slapped his hand away, laughing.  "So...do you want to try it again?"  I reached up to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, noticing how deep the little crease between his eyebrows was.  He was worried. "Maybe if I keep my clothes on...?"

He shook his head, not meeting my gaze.  "I think I'd just like to sleep."

He didn't say anything else and he didn't look at me again, so I nodded and let my hand slide down his back as he sat up and left the bed.  Once the lights were out and the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the slow rustling wind through the trees outside, he slipped back into bed next to me and pulled me close to him, tucking my head up under his chin.  It was my favorite place to be, and the steady thump of his heart next to my ear lulled me quickly to sleep.

 

In the morning I felt him before I saw him;  some time during the night I had twisted around till my back was to him, and he had migrated toward me again until we were spooned tightly together.  The heavy solid weight of his penis between my thighs was both soothing and arousing and I pushed my bottom back, grinding into his groin, till I felt him move a little.  After a few seconds he moaned, soft and low as his half erect cock became fully hard against me, and his hand slipped down over my hip to burrow between my legs from the front as he pushed into me from behind.

It was quick and sloppy, but he came inside me this time, and as he hugged me tight with one arm while he stroked me to climax, I felt his other hand slide down to my stomach.  I didn't know if it was a comfort to him or if he was truly turned on by the baby being there, but it made me smile.  He already loved our baby so much.

He was going to be such a good father.  He was wonderful with Cara already, but I knew being able to be in his child's life from day one meant the world to him and that he intended to be involved every step of the way.  It wasn't that he had anything to prove to anyone...except maybe to himself.  I knew he could do it and I'm sure he knew it as well, but he was going to revel in every moment of it.

I let him turn me over onto my back and closed my eyes against the chilly morning air as he tugged the blanket down to my hips, his warm lips sliding down my stomach.  I thought he was going to go lower, but he stopped just below my bellybutton, where the baby bulge protruded between my hipbones.

 _"Good morning, pup,"_ I heard him whisper softly before pressing a warm kiss to the bump.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 

 


	48. Chapter 48

 

 

We laid there in bed for a while, listening to the wind outside and talking about baby names.  It seemed sort of surreal, having _that_ discussion in _that_ bed, where we'd first made our decision to do this.  He was stroking me while we talked, lazily running his long fingers over me everywhere he could reach, and it didn't take long for my newfound horniness overdrive to have me begging for more than just his touch.  I squirmed a little, a bit embarrassed to ask for it.  He hadn't had any trouble that morning, but it had been a rush first-thing quickie that only took a couple of minutes.  I wanted something else and I wasn't used to asking.

"Would you - "

He raised his head and looked at me, his face sleepy and sweet.  "Hmm?"

"Would you...go down on me?"

I bit my lip after I asked, suddenly feeling my face go hot.  He was almost always the aggressor, the instigator, the one who told me when and how we were going to do it - I rarely ever requested anything specific.  It just wasn't my nature and now, after hearing myself ask for this, I felt so awkward I wanted to crawl under the covers and hide.

"Of course, baby.  You want me to lick your pussy?"

 _Oh god,_ yeah that made it a _lot_ better, hearing him put it like that.  I squeezed my eyes shut and felt a flush creep up to my ears.  He noticed and I knew this was going to get unbearable before it got better, especially when I peeked at him with one eye and saw him grinning that cheshire cat grin of his.  He had every intention of torturing me until I begged him to stop.

"You want me to lick or suck?

"Oh god..."

"I can put my tongue in or just nibble your clit - "

"Stop!"

He laughed and the sheet and blanket flew up as he dove underneath them, and I put my hands over my face and giggled as the big lump of him worked its way down to the foot of the bed and then back up, dragging my legs apart as I fought to keep them together.  His muffled voice came from somewhere down around my ankles as I kicked at him in protest.

"You're going to have to be still, Bitch Pudding."

"I changed my mind, I want to go into town and get spaghetti."

"I'm already eating out."

I squealed and he pried my legs apart with his hands around my ankles, lifting them up over his shoulders and holding me down with his arms under my butt and up around my hips.  I closed my eyes, waiting for that incredible sensation of his mouth on me, and was rewarded with a long, slow lick along the entire length of my underside.  It gave me an all-over shiver and he promptly began sucking at me, wasting no time getting straight to the good stuff.

I came embarrassingly fast, and had my hands over my face when he resurfaced from under the blankets.

"It seems I'm not the only one going off too quick these days."

"Shut up!" 

He grinned, his eyes bright and sparkly with barely contained laughter.  "You've never asked for it before."

 _"Don't don't don't,"_   I whined, rolling away from him so I wouldn't have to look at him.  He pulled me back to him and pried my hands off my face.  

"I always just sort of thought you allowed me to do it because you knew I liked to."  One hand came away and I struggled to keep the other in place, but he had it peeled away just as quickly.  I sighed and let him lean across me to hold me still.

"What, it hasn't been obvious all this time that I enjoy it?"

"Well yeah, I mean you always come, so I'm assuming it's pleasurable for you."

 _"Pleasurable."_  I snorted, then jerked when he slapped my inner thigh.  It was wet so it made a loud popping sound.  "Hey!"

He grinned as he licked his fingers.  "Tell me something I don't know."

I stared at him for a second, momentarily confused by his sudden shift in direction.  I wasn't sure what he was asking, so I just responded with the first thing that came to mind as he began slowly moving back down between my legs again.  "Umm...well, once Sam and I had sex in the bathroom at the pub."

He jerked his head up.

"What - _my_ pub?"

"Yeah."  I reached down and flicked his hair so that a long strand fell down over one eye.  "He'd been hinting about wanting to spice up our sex life and that was what came of it."

He gave me a bit of a shocked look, like he couldn't figure out if he should be weirded out by what I'd just confessed or turned on by it.  "Whose idea was that?"

"Mine."

"Why'd you choose that?  The pub I mean."

I thought about it for a second, debating with myself over whether or not I wanted to go there...in the end I decided it was as good a time as any.  I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Because...don't get me wrong, I loved Sam and was _completely_ faithful to him...but we'd been sort of doing this thing where we gave each other permission to think about other people while we were doing it sometimes, just to see what kind of an effect it had on how we did it, and...well...I liked the idea of doing it at the pub because I wanted to get a look at you before we...you know."

_"What?"_

I cringed, putting my hands over my ears to block that tone in his voice.  I regretted saying anything and I knew he was going to make me explain myself...I'd been holding steadfastly to the fantasy that I couldn't stand the sight of him prior to sleeping with him for nearly a decade, and now I'd just blown myself out of the water.  There was no way he was going to let this slide.

"I _may_ have found you a little bit...darkly...weirdly...fetishistically sexy, in a creepy sort of way.  Just a _little_ bit."

I opened one eye and peeked at him.  He was sitting there staring at my knee, his eyes wide, an almost sick look on his face.  It really wasn't the reaction I'd expected from him and I started to feel a little bit panicked until he finally looked at me.

"You've said all this time that you found me - and I quote - _ugly and not even remotely sexy."_

"I know."

He looked a little bit hurt.  "You've been lying to me all this time?"

"Maybe...a bit."

"Why?"

"Because...I don't know, you weren't my type and I was with Sam and it didn't feel right, I never even acknowledged it to myself until just recently. But you had that scary reputation, which was kinda sexy in a creepy sort of way, and it was obvious you were really smart.  I've always liked smart guys.  I didn't think you were good looking - just sort of attractive in a dangerous, might-not-be-human kind of way. "

"So we're back to the werewolf thing, are we?"

I smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood as he got up and went to the hearth to stoke the dwindling fire;  he turned around and held his hand out to me and I scrambled off the bed, settling in on the floor on the blanket I'd dragged with me.

"Kady thought you were a vampire."

"Kady was a bitch in heat."

"Be nice."

"I am being nice.  Did you know she tried to get me to sleep with her like a dozen times?"

"I know, she told me every time."  I watched as he laid back on the rug, stretching his legs out over mine.  "Your turn."

"Hmm?"

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Uh, well...I don't like sushi."

"That's it?"

"As far as things you don't know, yeah that's about it."

I shook my head, knowing that couldn't possibly be true.  "No way.  Tell me something naughty."

"Naughty?  Hmm..."  He thought about it for a minute, poking at the fire with a stick from the kindling pile.  "Not really naughty, I guess, but I made out with Chris in the middle of the mosh pit at a music festival one summer when we were kids."

"Really??  Oh my god - that's...that's kinda hot, actually."

"Is it?  I was a little bit drunk, maybe a little bit high, I don't remember.  He was protecting me from some guys who'd been watching for a while."

"What, you mean they wanted you?"

"I guess."

"Did everybody look?"

"Yeah, I guess they did...we were in the middle of a crowd."

"That's sort of...why does that turn me on?"

"Because I'm rubbing your crotch with my foot."

I looked down and realized that he was doing exactly that, and I hadn't even noticed.  Not consciously anyway - but I was pushing against his foot and the whole area between my legs was feeling distinctly soaked.  A log shifted in the fire, sending sparks flying, and the blaze of orange light made his face look decidedly otherworldly.  Sometimes, when the elements chose to show the proof that he wasn't one of us, mortals or humans or whatever we call ourselves, it was impossible not to acknowledge that there was something in him that wasn't like everyone else.  Sometimes it was the wind, blowing his hair like smoke tendrils drifting lazily through the air, or the sunlight shifting his eyes into the most brilliant diamonds, or fire, like now, lighting him from inside with an ethereal glow.

"So what kind of effect did it have on you?"

"What?"

"Getting a look at me before you did it in the bathroom at the pub."

"Oh..."  I shifted uncomfortably, not really wanting to talk to him about me and Sam any more than I had to.  They had been friends.  "Well, I...I bit him really hard and came in like seven seconds."

"Holy fuck, girly."

"Yeah."

I watched him for a little while as he messed with the fire, wondering how the elements knew about him and what it was that they kept trying to show me.  In the back of my head I had all these illogical thoughts that, had they been about anyone else, I would have dismissed as silly.  But they were about Tom, and somehow nothing was the least bit out of the ordinary when it had to do with him, no matter how strange and unlikely it might be otherwise.

 _You two are a twisted fairytale,_ Ewan had said on our wedding day.  Those words had been rattling around in my head a lot lately, and as I sat there staring at Tom, they made more sense than they ever had before.

 

We drove down into town a little bit later to get some supplies, and by the time we got there I had to pee so badly that I jumped out of the car to run inside.  Tom outran me and got to the door first, jumping over the threshold as the door slammed shut behind him;  I growled at him and he pushed it back open to hold it for me, already in conversation with the clerk by the time I got there.  It was the same guy from last time, the one who had told us about Adam.  I smiled at him and rushed through to the bathrooms behind the counter, feeling really happy when I realized they were speaking Cree to each other.

When I came out my eyes went straight to Tom immediately - they always did, it was never difficult to spot him anywhere because he was so big and different looking from everyone around him.  He was standing at the counter talking to the clerk and another man, smiling and discussing something with animated gestures, a woman standing next to him.  She was closer to him than I liked, but I was used to women doing that to him - it was a natural impulse, it seemed.

But as I walked toward them I saw her slide her hand up his back and let it come to rest on his shoulder, up under his hair, and I could see her fingers teasingly stroking the side of his neck.  She looked distinctly pleased with herself.

"Hey, get your hand off my husband please."

Tom kept talking to the other man for a second until he realized he'd heard my voice and turned around.  The woman didn't even look at me, just stroked his hair like she was petting a cat with that smug look on her face.  She'd heard me, she was just ignoring me.  I raised my voice a little louder this time.

"Please stop petting my husband!"

In that moment Tom realized what was going on and stepped away from her.  He was so used to people always wanting to touch him that it hadn't even registered in his head that she was doing anything.  He glanced at her and then turned to look at me again, his eyes going wide when he saw the look on my face.

With a sarcastically exaggerated gesture, the woman removed her hand from his shoulder and smirked at me, this time looking straight at me. "Sorry," she hissed, all honey and vinegar.  "He didn't look taken to me."

I stood there staring at her for a second, then looked at Tom.  His eyes were locked on me and I could tell he didn't really know what to do.  He pulled his wallet out and paid the clerk for his soda and followed me as I stomped out, letting the door slam shut behind me, almost hitting him in the face with it.

 

"I'm sorry, baby," he said as soon as we were outside.  I kept going, heading across the parking lot to the car without looking at him.  I knew I shouldn't be mad, he hadn't done anything wrong, but that woman - she had pissed me right the hell off, putting her hands all over him like that. She knew he was with me, she'd seen us come in together - hadn't she?  I thought back on it for a second and realized I had come in several steps behind Tom, the door had already swung shut by the time I got to it.  He had spun around to grab it, not realizing it was on a tight spring, but other than that I had to admit that maybe it wasn't _completely_ obvious he was with me.

"Baby, please - "

He caught up to me in just a couple of quick strides, but he didn't grab me, just fell into step beside me with his hands shoved down in his pockets.

"Are you mad, Anja?"

"Yes."

"Shit.  At me?"

I wanted to be, but I couldn't.  "No."

"Okay because listen, I have to tell you something."

I got to the car and tried to open the door to get in, but it was locked and the keys were in his pocket.  "Give me the keys."

"Anja, just wait a second."

"Give me the keys!"

"Anja - "

"GIVE ME THE GODDAMN KEYS!!"

He froze, staring at me with his mouth open.  I stood there glaring at him with my hand out, standing my ground, waiting for him to do what I said. After several long seconds he finally reached into his pocket and pulled the keys out, holding them out to me as I snatched them out of his hand and unlocked the car door.

Without another word he went around and got in.  I tossed the keys into his lap and he sighed before he picked them up and started the car.

 

We drove back to the cabin in silence and I could tell by the look on his face that he was a little bit confused and a little bit irritated and probably didn't know which way he should be leaning.  But all I felt was anger, at that arrogant woman for being so blatant with him and at him for being oblivious to it.  I knew he hadn't thought anything of it, not even for a second, because he would have moved away from her sooner if he had.  But it still pissed me off and my mood had turned so dark that I didn't have any desire to even try to pull myself out of it.

He sensed it and kept his mouth shut, not making any move to take over when I pushed him toward the bed and started pulling his shirt off him. He stood still and let me, his eyes watching me, a half hurt expression in them keeping me from wanting to look at him.  I couldn't stand that look, I'd seen it so few times but every time I did it gutted me.

"Take your boots off," I ordered him, moving away to strip out of my own clothes.  As his eyes fell to where my hands were unbuttoning my shirt, I changed my mind - I wasn't going to let him see me this time. This time I was going to be in control and if he wanted to look at me he was going to have to wait till next time.  "Hurry up."

He did as he was told and stood up to take his jeans off, never saying a word as I pushed him back onto the bed on his back and climbed up to straddle him.

"Scoot back, all the way."

He moved up on the bed till his head was at the pillows and I crouched over him, getting up on my knees just enough to get my pants down and kick them off.  My shirt covered me past my hips and when he reached for me to push it up, I grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the mattress.  "No touching.  Just be still."

He lay there completely passive under me, obeying me without question, and I suddenly felt completely empowered and dominant in a way I never had before - nothing had ever even come close.  As I leaned forward and bit his chest just above his nipple where the faint outline scar of my teeth still marked him, he groaned quietly, his eyes drifting shut, and I knew he was going to let me be in control until I wanted to hand it back over to him.

But I wasn't sure why.

And I really didn't care.  Not at that moment anyway.  I had this beautiful creature stretched out under me and he was trembling, ready for whatever I planned to do to him, and I was in a hell of a mood.  This unrelenting need to assert myself, to lay claim to him, to show him who he belonged to, was seething somewhere below my normally composed surface and I knew, without any doubt, that this had to happen.

 _"Don't you dare come,"_ I whispered against his lips as I pressed down on him, rubbing against his cock.  He was stiff, and twitched when I slid forward on him.  "I mean it - you don't come till I tell you you can." He nodded, his eyes still closed, his lips moving as if he was saying something. I leaned closer and put my ear near his mouth.

In barely more than a whisper, I heard his words.

_"Yes, Mistress."_

 

I reached under me and took him in my hand, going slow, taking the time to really pay attention to how he felt.  His cock was thick and solid, and when I slid his foreskin back he groaned softly and pushed his hips up.  I knew it was an involuntary movement so I didn't scold him, but I noticed how his hands gripped the sheets and pulled hard against them, like he was struggling violently to keep himself from reaching for me.  I knew this wasn't in his nature, being the submissive.  I also knew it wasn't in my nature to be the Dominant.  But somehow, that's where we were, and somehow we both knew what was expected of us.

For Tom, I knew this was something he'd experienced before.  But not me.  I had no idea where any of it was coming from, but it flowed freely without me thinking twice about it.

I closed my eyes and pushed down, sliding him deep inside me.

 

Later, I have no idea how much later, I lay staring at the ceiling with him curled at my side, his warm breath soft on my shoulder.  I was still in my shirt and he was naked on top of the covers, shivering a little as he kissed along my upper arm.

"Go get warm, baby," I whispered, nodding toward the fireplace where the flames were beginning to die down.  Without a word he got up and left the bed, crossing over to the hearth to kneel in front of it and stir the fire.  It was a little bit shocking to see his chest and shoulders covered in bite marks, his neck peppered with bruises where I'd sucked at his skin till it purpled.  I kept thinking _Did I do that?_   - even though I knew I had.  I'd done far more than just that.  I'd actually made him beg me to let him come, and when I finally allowed him, he had whimpered as he emptied between my legs.

As he stoked the fire, I sat on the edge of the bed staring at his back, at the scratches that were still red and welted along his ribcage, and said to myself... _it should be over._  It should be out of my system and I should be able to hand everything back to him now.

But it wasn't, and I couldn't.

"Do you know what that was about?"  I finally asked, and even though my voice was quiet, it held a strange authority that I'd never heard in it before.  He looked back at me over his shoulder for a moment, then nodded.

"You felt threatened."

I had to think about that for a second, but only a second.  I hadn't felt threatened, I'd felt _insulted._  He belonged to me and someone had completely disregarded that.  The fact that he interpreted it as a weakness on my part infuriated me.

"No, that's not it.  That's not it at all."

He stood and looked at me, then bent over to retrieve his jeans and shirt from the floor.  As he began pulling them on, I felt my face getting hotter by the second till finally it all boiled over and I stood up, kicking the bedside table so that it fell over with a resounding crash. 

"Fuck you for being so goddamn beautiful that everyone wants to touch you, and for being so _stupid_ that you don't even know the difference between someone being nice and wanting to suck your dick!"

His face fell and I knew I'd hit a nerve.  He didn't even argue with me, just stood there staring at me with that half hurt look in his eyes again, and I suddenly felt very very bad as my momentary rush of fury quickly died out.

He stood there holding his shirt in his hands, looking down at it as his fingers twisted the buttons.  "I'm sorry.  You're right...I don't know the difference."  He chewed his lip for a minute and I held my tongue, not trusting myself to say anything else, until he looked up at me again and shrugged a little.  "I just...I never had anyone touching me the way people need to be touched.  And I always wanted it so bad - I used to wonder what was wrong with me that made people only want to be mean to me.  I didn't get it, I didn't understand, and it made me mean and it all became this vicious circle.  I was unlovable because I was mean and I was mean because I was unlovable."  He pulled the shirt on, standing there with it open, and I noticed there was a thin trickle of blood trailing down from his collarbone.  "My stepdad said I wasn't worth loving and I believed him because he sure as hell didn't love me.  So any time anyone was actually nice to me I took it, it didn't matter what form it came in.  I still do it.  It's like I've got this big empty jar where everyone else has a full one and I'm desperately trying to catch up."

My heart fell right into my feet and I didn't know which was worse, the slightly sick feeling I got from realizing I'd either bitten or scratched him hard enough to make him bleed, or the sadness that hit me like a fist to the gut when I thought about how badly I'd just insulted him.

I couldn't look at him, I felt so ashamed.  I knew what he was saying was true, I'd just been so...angry.  Jealous.  Intense emotion was a new thing to me, all my life I'd been on an even keel and I'd _never_ been an overly emotional person, but now with my hormones jacked to fever pitch there was suddenly all this unfamiliar intensity to everything.  And I was hurling it all at Tom, because he was the thing closest to me.

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head, a wistful sort of little smile on his lips but not in his eyes.  "Don't be.  I'm sort of blind to how stuff like that makes you feel.  I've never had anyone care enough to be jealous.  It feels kinda nice."

"You had Chris."

"Yeah...he wasn't a cute girl though."  He moved slowly toward me, stopping a couple of feet from the bed, then reached over and tugged at my fingers.  "I'll try to be more aware.  My head doesn't automatically register things as inappropriate when it's me - if you hadn't gotten mad, I would never think what she was doing wasn't okay."

I knew he was telling the truth.  "But if someone did the same thing to me you'd murder them and pay Ewan to ditch the body."

"Yep."

"Seems a bit hypocritical."

"I know."  Moving closer, he slowly pulled me into his arms and wrapped them around me, holding me tight.  "It's just how I am where you're concerned.  You're the best thing I ever had and I'd rather be a hypocrite than risk losing you now that I've got you.  So I'm sorry, but...I won't be changing any time soon."

I thought about it for a long second, then nodded, pushing my face into his chest inside his shirt.  I was good with that.

 

Somewhere in the middle of the night I woke up with the uneasy sensation of being alone in the bed.  Looking around, I quickly figured out that he wasn't in the cabin, and wrapped a blanket around myself to shuffle over to the window and look outside.  It took a little while for my sleepy eyes to focus, but I could see him down by the grill doing something.  I pulled the chair over from in front of the fireplace and sat down, yawning, till I was awake enough to sort out his shape in the cloudy moonlight.

I watched through the window as he climbed up on the picnic table, the orange glow of a match flaring near his face as he lit a cigarette and took a long pull on it.  I hated that I'd made him feel stressed enough to smoke, it was going to hurt his lungs and I couldn't stop him from doing it.  I knew if I went out and stood near him he would put it out, but I'd done enough to him already.  Let him have his one little occasional vice, it helped calm him and I obviously wasn't going to be any good in that capacity right now.  I watched for a few minutes while he sat there and smoked, thinking he was probably the only person in the world who actually looked sexy sucking poison into their lungs. 

But it was what he did next that made me blink and look twice.

He suddenly stood up, stepping up on top of the picnic table, and started unbuttoning his shirt.  Shrugging out of it, he dropped it and kicked off his boots, then stepped out of his pants till he was standing there naked.  The moon was behind clouds so I could barely see him, with just the palest silver glow hitting his skin and the little red glowing dot of the cigarette in his mouth.  It was cold, bitter cold with an icy wind coming down off the mountains, but he raised his arms to the sky and dropped his head back like he couldn't even feel it.

At first I thought the sound I heard was the wolves - but when they joined in a moment later, I realized it was him.

 

I was asleep when he came back;  his skin was like ice as he climbed into the bed and curled up to me, not even stopping to get warm in front of the fireplace first.  It was shocking and my first impulse was to jump away from him and make him get out of the bed, but instead I wrapped myself around him, trying to help warm him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, rubbing my hands up and down his back to take some chill off.  "I'm sorry Tom, I'm so sorry."

He was shivering and there were ice crystals in his hair, and I realized he was as naked as I'd seen him on the picnic table.  I didn't know what time it was or how long he'd been gone, but I wondered if he'd gone to see the wolves up on the ridge.  I wanted to scold him for doing something ridiculous as that, with his sickly lungs...but I just held him until he was warm, rubbing his skin, kissing his face, pressing myself against him to try to share my heat with him.

 

Everything seemed normal in the morning;  when we woke up he nudged up against me from behind until I pushed back against him, and we made love the same way we always did, mostly asleep and led solely by our half conscious instincts to rut and grind against each other until it felt good. After we were finished and he'd drowsily murmured that he loved me against the back of my neck, I rolled over in his arms and nuzzled my nose against his lips.

"You were going to tell me something yesterday."

"I was?"

"Yeah - when I was in bitch mode.  You said you needed to tell me something when we were walking to the car."

"Hmm...you mean when you were stomping across the parking lot and I was trying to chase you down."  He acted like he was going to go back to sleep until I tickled his ribs, making him growl and threaten to toss me into the icy creek.  I knew I was safe, but relented anyway.  He was quiet for a few minutes and I thought he'd dozed off, till finally he kissed my nose and turned onto his back to stretch.  "Let's go eat first, I'm starved."

 

We sat in the little diner in town, eating our breakfast without saying much.  We'd settled back into that comfortable quiet that we often had, both of us content knowing what our roles were in our relationship despite the strange detour it had taken the previous night, each of us satisfied with our place.  I was feeling pretty good, not quite as queasy as I had been for the last several weeks, and it made me happy thinking maybe I had finally crossed that milestone into what people told me would be the "good" part of the pregnancy.

Tom was smiling at me from across the table and I couldn't stop my eyes going down to the marks on his throat.  It gave me a little shiver knowing I'd done that to him, and that the rest of his body beneath his clothes was in much worse shape.

He was marked, good and proper.

"So what was it?  Yesterday, your big news."

He looked down at his plate, like he was thinking, and I knew he was debating on whether or not he wanted to tell me anymore.  I felt bad because he'd seemed excited about it.  I reached across and stole his bacon.  "Tell me?"

He seemed lost in his thoughts for a long moment more, then finally nodded and looked at me.

"I talked to Carlton."

"Who's he?"

"Guy that owns the cabin."

"Oh.  Is he selling it?"

"Yeah."

I felt gutted for a second, but I'd expected this.  I nodded, staring down at my own plate, not feeling quite as great as I had just a little bit ago.  "Oh."

Tom reached across and took one of my sausages.

_"To us."_

 

When I stopped squealing and crying like an idiot, Tom had eaten half my breakfast, sitting there laughing at me in between bites pilfered from my plate.  He had made a phonecall on the first day when I mentioned jokingly that he should buy the place, and sealed the deal the day before - it was the real reason why he hadn't paid any attention to the woman beside him, because he was discussing the details with the owner, the second man at the store counter.

I felt like a fool.

"I need to go back over there and get the papers, he's leaving them at the register for me because he's going back to the city today," he told me as he got up to pay.  I finished my breakfast quickly, feeling hot and a bit queasy suddenly, but shrugged it off to excitement and hormones as I happily followed him out.

 

When we got there, the woman from the previous day was at the counter again, drinking a mineral water and immediately glancing over to give Tom a come hither look, despite the fact that I was right behind him.  He hesitated, looking around nervously, but I pushed past him muttering "Don't worry baby, I got this" and headed straight for her.  He didn't try to stop me, and when I got to the counter I tapped on it with my knuckles to get her attention.  After a second she pulled her eyes off my husband and gave me a snide look.

I didn't even have to suck in my breath before I got started, I was so ready for this.

 _"This - "_  I pointed at Tom " - belongs to _me._  All of it.  Everything you see here and all the parts you can't see, they're all mine, and I don't share any of it."  She gave me a look like I was crazy, but I wasn't having any.  I stepped up to her and looked up into her face - she was a good six inches taller than me, but she actually stepped back when I got into her space.  "Don't touch him again.  He's not yours.  He's not looking for a one night stand with a stranger, he's not shopping for a girlfriend, he's not prowling for a bang against the mens room wall.  He's a grown-ass man on a weekend trip with his wife, he's got a kid and a half, he's faithful, he's mated for life, and you're just going to end up embarrassing yourself acting like a whore toward a man who's already had sex three times today.  He doesn't need _you_ for _anything,_ so _back the fuck off of him."_

She'd been steadily backing up the whole time I growled at her, but every time she took a step back I took another step forward.

_"Do you understand me?"_

She looked past me for a second, probably at Tom, but he obviously didn't give her the support she was hoping for and after a long moment she finally nodded.  I turned away and heard her mutter something under her breath, but Tom shook his head at me like he was saying _Let it go,_ so I did.  The clerk was laughing, not even trying to hide his amusement as he reached under the register and pulled out the papers we'd come for, handing them to me with a huge grin.  He said something to Tom in his native language and Tom rubbed his face, looking slightly embarrassed, but he laughed and nodded to him as he followed me out of the store.

 

We were barely to the car when he turned around and grabbed me, pulling me up in a tight squeeze that pushed the air right out of my lungs.  My feet were off the ground and he kissed me, hard and deep, with all the forceful dominance that I was used to from him - all the things that had been missing the night before.

"My sweet - _vicious_ \- little alpha female," he whispered hotly against my ear once our mouths separated. _"You've finally figured out that you're allowed to snarl if someone gets too close to your mate."_

 

To be continued...

 

 


	49. Chapter 49

 

 

He took me back to the cabin and we were tearing at each other before we even got from the car to the front door.  I could tell by his breathing and the urgent, almost frenzied way he was pulling at my clothes that he was more turned on than I'd seen him in a very long time - but it was my _own_ breathing and the way I was yanking at _his_ clothes that made me laugh.  And when I started, I couldn't stop.  So much so, in fact, that he finally just hefted me up onto his hips and carried me into the cabin after kicking the door open.

"Hey," I protested, biting the underside of his jawline as he went to his knees in front of the fireplace, laying me down on the rug.  It was a little bit rough, but not enough to make me complain.  "Don't be kicking the door off its hinges!"

 _"It's my door now,"_ he growled back, crouching over me, fussing with the buttons on my shirt.  "Fuck this," he snarled when he realized it was taking too long;  he grabbed it and yanked it open, buttons flying everywhere.

I did the same to him, and while he was messing with my bra I sat up and bit him, hard, on the collarbone.  He hissed and pushed me back down but I grabbed him around the ribs and pulled myself up again, licking him across one nipple.  There was a low groan to tell me he liked it and without thinking I latched onto it, sucking hard.

He dropped his head back and groaned again, louder this time.

 _"Let me,"_ I begged, alternating sucking and licking until his nipples were hard and his breathing was coming fast and labored.  "Please?  Can I?"

He finally tipped his head back down and looked at me, his eyes completely glazed over with pure lust and absolute need.

"You want to dominate me?"

Something in the way he said it made me feel strange - it was almost like he wanted it but dreaded it at the same time, and the softly submissive look that came into his eyes gave me flutters in my stomach.  I tried to remember if there was anything he'd told me about his past that should keep me from pushing this, but other than what I assumed went on when he was traveling, I couldn't recall anything specific.

"Yes."  I took his face in my hands, making him look at me.  "If you're okay with it."

He stared at me for a long moment, then the soft look turned into a grin that widened under sleepy eyes as he laid over on his back and let his arms fall to his sides.

"Do your worst, girly."

 

I slowly kissed him all over, trailing my mouth from his chin down his neck and over his chest, licking and sucking and biting, marking him every few inches as I worked my way down to his hips before I unfastened his jeans and tugged them down.  He lay perfectly still and let me, his eyes closed, his hands lax on the floor next to him, fingers twitching every now and then when I bit him or found a particularly sensitive spot.  His whole body responded to every touch - his muscles tensed, his skin puckered into gooseflesh, his back arched...his eyes shut tight and his hands clutched at the rug, his voice punctuating his heavy breathing with soft moans and needy, pleading groans.  I almost didn't want to stop, but his cock was twitching and I knew he was ready, so ready that he was about to burst, and I wanted him inside me when that happened.

I crawled back up his prone body, nipping his skin with my teeth along the way, till I was on my hands and knees over his chest.  My shirt was hanging open and he'd unfastened my bra, so I let my breasts rub against him, feeling a shiver of delight that I wasn't sure was from the delicious sensation of my overly sensitive nipples scraping across his ribcage or the way his breath caught in his throat and he chewed his lip, biting so hard I thought I would see blood ooze down his chin any second.

 _"You are mine,"_ I whispered against the underside of his jaw, nipping at the sharp bone.  "Do you understand me?   _Mine._  You belong to _me._ "

He nodded, eyes still clenched tightly shut.

 _"Yours."_  

 

It was mid afternoon by the time we finally stopped.  I was getting sick from hunger but couldn't make myself leave him alone...I just wanted more and more of him, and when I got tired he took over top position and let me rest while he became boss again.  It was new and exciting and I loved how he let me take over whenever I felt like it.  He became whatever I wanted, the moment I wanted it, and I watched with amazement as he went seamlessly from one to the other.

His making it from Detroit to San Diego alive was starting to make more and more sense when I saw how easily he shifted to suit my changing mood.  He had a talent.  It made me sad knowing he'd had to use it for something less that what he was using it for now.

 

We finally got up off the floor and made ourselves some sandwiches, taking them outside to eat at the picnic table by the creek.  We were mostly quiet for a while, in that sort of dreamy wordless space that exists after deep, meaningful sex.  But I had questions, and it was getting harder and harder to respect the silence as they pushed at the back of my tongue, demanding that I put them into words.

I finally couldn't hold it any longer and blurted out, "What was that mistress stuff about last night?"

He gave me a squinty look and then turned his face back up to the sun, a slow grin crinkling around his eyes.

"I was in one of _those_ relationships once."

 _"Those?_  What does _those_  mean?"

His grin widened and he laid back on the bench, stretching out to let the sun warm him.  "She was a Mistress, I was her slave."

"Are you serious?!"

He nodded, laughing.  "Yeah.  Where do you think I learned all that stuff?"

"Stuff?"

 _"Stuff,_ Anja.  Like how to restrain you without hurting you, how to use a belt, and some of the kinkier things we've done...nobody's born just knowing that stuff, everybody has to learn it somewhere."

"I thought you read it in a book."

He turned his head and looked at me.  "And what book would that be?  Fifty Shades?"

I felt embarrassed but was so curious I couldn't let the heat in my ears stop me from asking.  "I just can't imagine you as anyone's slave.  Although now that I think about it, you did shift pretty easily into submissive mode."

He nodded again and closed his eyes, his face relaxing into happy contentment.  "That's one of the things she taught me.  I can switch back and forth.  I'm dominant by nature but it's like pushing a button, I can do either...I just _prefer_ being the boss."

That much was obvious.  The only times I'd ever seen him turn submissive were when he knew it was what I wanted.  But he did it so easily...with such skill...it was almost like being with a different person.  I had opened my eyes and stared at his face several times just to make sure it was really him, not totally convinced until he opened his own and I saw the brilliant turquoise shining up at me.

"Who was she?"

"Maggie."

I had to think about it for a minute, and when it hit me I gasped in shock.  "Maggie?! - you mean from the other pub?"

"That's the one."

"Oh my god Tom, she's at least ten years older than you...and...and I know her!"

He laughed so hard it triggered a coughing spell and he had to sit up to breathe while I banged on his back.  "So?" he finally choked out, a wide smile of total amusement lighting his face.  "You're three years older than me...Alicia was more than twenty years older than me...you should know by now that I like my ladies a bit more _mature."_

"But you and Maggie??"

"Ever heard that Rod Stewart song?"

"Oh god...no...don't..."

He started singing - "Wake up Maggie I think I got something to say to you - "

"NO!!"

He sang a little more, then started laughing again.  This was really funny to him and I felt sort of foolish, like maybe I was a little bit too innocent about these kinds of things.  He noticed my sheepish face and his tone instantly turned less condescending.  "Look, she was in need of some company after her divorce and I was in need of training on how to run a pub.  She had experience and I was willing.  We each had something the other needed, so we made a fair trade."

"So you subbed for her and she taught you how to run your business."

"Yeah, if you want to oversimplify it.  She'd been running her pub for a decade already, it was a smart swap for me."

"With the side benefit of learning how to be a bossy asshole in the bedroom."

He grinned.  "A nice little bonus."

"Do you...do you ever...you know, just want to do that?  The submissive thing?"

He peeked at me with one eye, squinting in the bright sun.  "Not often.  But if you ever want to be the boss, just say so, like you did.  I liked watching you get your jollies while growling at me not to touch."  He sat up, reaching out to stroke one long finger lazily up my arm.  "Alpha suits you."

I thought about it for a long while, sitting there in silence next to him, leaning against his shoulder.  I knew there was something else, something to do with his relationship with Chris, but I had no idea what it was.  I'd watched them both for so long, noticing how they interacted, that even to my sexually inexperienced mind there was something there, something I didn't have a name for - it was easy to see that Tom was the one who closed his eyes when Chris laid a hand on his shoulder, that he was the one whose body untensed and leaned in when Chris stood next to him.  Maggie wasn't his first experience with willing submission...something told me this without any doubt, and even though I wanted more than anything for him to tell me about it, I couldn't bring myself to ask. 

 

We stayed outside for a long time, listening to the creek and the wind in the trees;  he sang to me for a while, till I turned sideways on the bench so I could lay back across his lap and he laid his hand on my belly to pat the pup bump.  I stroked his hair as he leaned down and rubbed his face on me, and heard him whisper _How are you Layla Jane?_ against my bellybutton.

Hearing him give the baby a name was like a tub of feelings being kicked over - a wave of something hit me, hard and solid, I don't know if it was hormones or just pure emotion, but I had to put my hand over my mouth and bite my palm to keep from bursting out crying.  I didn't think it could get any worse, but when he started singing again, to the bump this time, it was all I could do not to fall apart.  He sensed that I was choking up and immediately brought his other hand up to my forehead, stroking across my brow with his thumb and whispering _Shhhh, shhhhh_ as he rocked me.

When I could trust my voice not to break, I looked up at him and smiled, even though I still felt like crying.  "Is that Pup's name?"  I went to sit up and he scooted in behind me, pulling me back against his chest, nodding against the back of my head.

"I've had that name picked out since I was seventeen.  I decided if I ever had kids, which I really never thought I would, I was going to name a girl that."

"Why?"

He rocked me slowly, nuzzling his face into my hair before setting his chin on my shoulder.  "Chris and I were on a road trip and it was just a perfect day, I was really close to figuring who and what I was, I was with my best friend in the entire world, and I was happy, really happy, and beginning to realize exactly what that meant.  And as I was laying in the sun listening to music on my headphones, getting used to this new thing, this contentment, Clapton started playing.  I loved that song and it suddenly felt like something special."

"Layla?"

"Yeah.  Beautiful melody at the end, I just closed my eyes and really listened to it for the first time.  It was so heartfelt.  One of those things that just sort of washes over you and soaks in, all the way to your bones, into your soul."

"You're deep."

He laughed, kissing the back of my head.  "Not so much.  I just really liked Clapton."

"What about the Jane part?"

"It's sort of an anagram of your name.  Almost.  Close enough.  And it sounds pretty with Layla."

It did.  I liked it.  I rubbed my stomach and he put his hand over mine, and as god or whoever is in charge of things in the universe is my witness, the baby chose that moment to move for the first time.  We both felt it but neither of us said anything, we just sat there, smiling and happy and ridiculously, horribly, irredeemably in love.

 

I went inside to use the bathroom a little later and was washing my hands when I heard Tom saying something.  He was still outside and I couldn't understand what he was saying, so I opened the cabin door and stepped out onto the porch.

Standing there, staring straight at me, was a huge wolf.

"Anja _don't move."_

I could see Tom about twenty yards away out of the corner of my eye;  he had an armload of wood and must have been coming back when he saw the wolf and tried to tell me to stay inside.  I froze, but my heart was pounding and I broke into an instant cold sweat as it started sniffing the air, eyes squinted, like it was identifying me.

"Baby don't move."

"I'm not moving.  Why is it here?"  My voice sounded so shaky and scared, I was afraid the wolf would recognize my sheer terror by the sound of it.

"It's the female - she must have been curious and came down to see what we're doing."  I could see him moving very slowly toward us, his eyes glued to the wolf.  I was hoping he would whistle or something to get her attention, but then I remembered he probably knew what he was doing, way better than I did.

"What's she going to do?"

"Nothing, I don't think.  She'll probably sniff around a little and then leave when she's satisfied."

"Oh."  For some reason that struck me funny and something like a strangled nervous laugh came out of my throat.  "Sounds like you."  The wolf took a step closer to me and I think I must have made a little squeaking noise because she suddenly whipped her head up and looked directly at me.

"Be still, Anja.  I mean it, don't move."

"Oh shit.  What do I do?"

"Be very still, be very quiet.  Keep your eyes on her nose, don't look directly at her.  Don't challenge her in any way."

I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life than I was at that moment.  The only thing I could think of to do to make myself as nonthreatening as possible was to just close my eyes and hold my hands out, palms up, so she could see I didn't have anything and wasn't going to do anything.  I held my breath and waited, feeling her inching closer, till I could feel her snorting breath on the fingers of my left hand.

I opened my eyes after what seemed like forever and saw that even though she was drawing my attention to my hand, she was looking me right in the face.  We just stared at each other for a long moment, then she squinted again like the sun was in her eyes and brought her nose around closer to me, sniffing, licking her snout and sort of tossing her head.  It was almost as if she had decided my scent was acceptable and she was saying _Okay, you're alright._

With that, she turned and loped off into the trees.

My legs almost collapsed under me.

Tom just stood there, staring off after her, and I knew he must be having some kind of inner wolfgasm at having been this close to one of our wild neighbors.  He finally dropped the wood he'd been carrying and ran to me, stopping just before he got to me and giving me a quick look over.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, not really sure what to say.  I was shaking so hard it felt like I was going to rattle apart.  A slow smile spread across his face and something of a delayed reaction hit him - he put a hand over his mouth and I could see that he was shaking as hard as me.

"Holy shit that was incredible!"

"Yeah...no.  No it wasn't.  Oh my god that was scary."  My hands were trembling and Tom pushed me gently back into the cabin, kicking the door shut behind us and settling me into one of the chairs by the fireplace.  I saw the look of pure excitement on his face and had to smile despite my nervous system being in meltdown mode.  "You want to follow her, don't you?"

"No, no I don't," he said, shaking his head.  "She was checking us out, it would be rude to follow her home after she gave us her sign of approval like that."

"Is that what that was?"

"I think so, yeah.  Apparently she's okay with the idea of coexisting with us."

"She sniffed me.  Like you do.  God it's creepy enough when you do it, now I've got the local wildlife doing it too?"

He broke into a wide smile, the concern melting off his face as he sat at my feet and laid his head on my knees, kissing my hands.  "She recognized your scent.  She's got new pups, she could smell that you're pregnant.  It made her curious.  Like when a bunch of women get together and talk about their babies."

That made sense, I supposed.  But despite the look of pure glee on Tom's face, I found myself sincerely hoping this would be the last time she felt the need to do an in-person inspection of the new owners. My nerves wouldn't survive another sniffing.

"Hey babe?"

"Hmm?"

Tom stood up in front of me, still holding my hands, and my eyes fell to his hip where the inked muzzle of the wolf was peeking out of the waist of his jeans.  I tried to ignore everything except that, but the very obvious bulge next to it kept drawing my gaze over.  I knew seeing the wolf would do this to him...I would have been very surprised if it hadn't.  As I looked up at him, closing my eyes as he brought one hand up to softly stroke the side of my face, I realized my fear had gone and I was feeling something else now - something more exhilarating, more sensual, more... _primal._

_I was as excited as he was._

 

I didn't even let him take me to the bed...we went to the floor right there in front of the fireplace, and before I realized what I was doing I was on my hands and knees, looking back at him over my shoulder as he shoved his jeans down and moved over me, pushing my hair out of the way so he could bite the back of my neck.  I barely recognized my own voice growling his name when he tugged my pants down out of the way and mounted me, pushing so hard against me that my knees could barely hold us up, driving himself into me with a cry that didn't sound completely human.

And through it all the only conscious thought I could hold in my head was the look in that wolf's eyes when she was done sniffing me.  I'd seen it before, I just hadn't realized it.

It was the look Tom had in his eyes on that first night, when he'd sniffed me and decided we were compatible.  We could get along.  Live in each other's world.

_Acceptance._

I felt kind of proud, like it was an affirmation that I finally belonged in both the worlds that Tom existed in - the tame world of his human side and the untamed world of his wild side.  And as I arched my back to lay my head on the floor, pushing my ass up further to give him complete control so he could have his way with me however he pleased, I couldn't stop myself smiling like a fool.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	50. Chapter 50

 

 

We'd been home from the cabin for a week when I started having a lot of discomfort - severe pain, actually, not just discomfort - and after going to the bathroom one afternoon to pee I realized I was bleeding. It wasn't a huge amount and I remembered reading that it was normal in a lot of pregnancies, but the pain in my lower stomach scared me a bit, so I told Tom about it immediately.  He wanted to see, so I showed him, and he decided it was more blood than we should be comfortable with.  We'd had sex that morning, but it wasn't rough by any means;  just our regular slow and lazy morning sex, on our sides with him nudged up behind me.  I didn't remember it hurting...but I could tell by the look on his face that he was worried about it, so I let him call my doctor and then take me to the ER to be checked.

When we got there the nurse from my doctor's office was waiting for us and I got undressed, going through the misery of an internal exam while Tom waited outside.  She recognized immediately what the problem was and told me to wait while she went to get the on-call doctor to give me the official diagnosis.  Tom came in with him, his face showing every bit of the worry he was feeling even though I knew he was probably trying his best to hide it - he could go completely blank faced in the worst of times and betray absolutely nothing that was going on in his head or his heart, but when it came to me and the baby, he wasn't _quite_ so good at deceit.  But being able to see his concern didn't do much to make me feel better, and I found myself almost wishing for that unnerving blank expression he was so good at.

The doctor looked at the notes the nurse had put in my file and nodded, quickly pulling on a pair of gloves and coming over to push his hand up between my legs while I sat on the end of the exam table.  I jumped and yelped a little, not expecting the sudden intrusion or lack of decorum, but Tom immediately stepped over and put his hands on my shoulders to calm me.  It was quick and confirmed what the doctor needed to know, and he stepped back without really even looking at me as he snapped the gloves off and tossed them into the bio bin.

"Okay Anja, you know that your cervix is basically what's holding your baby inside your uterus, right?" he asked, scribbling notes in my file as he talked.  "Normally it's tightly closed until delivery time.  Well, you've developed what's called an incompetent cervix, which just means that the stress and pressure that your growing uterus is putting on the opening has weakened it and it's beginning to open up.  Now, it's way too soon for that to happen - we don't want it opening until it's time for your baby to be born.  So we're going to have to do a little work in there to keep it from opening any further, because your uterus is just going to get heavier and heavier as the pregnancy progresses."

I was listening as best I could, but the second he'd said _it's beginning to open up_ I felt my attention span shutting down with dread.  Tom was still holding my shoulders and I could feel him squeezing me, but my head felt hot and feverish and the doctor's voice suddenly sounded very far away. 

"We can reinforce your cervix with a couple of stitches, which is standard for this problem, or we can try this new procedure where a band is slipped around the mouth of the cervix to hold it shut.  It runs a much lesser likelihood of coming undone and there's far less trauma to the cervix."

Tom nodded, but looked to me before he said anything.  When I nodded too, he started asking questions:  how would the procedure be done, would I be sedated, would I need to be hospitalized, would we need to do anything different once we got home, what were the success rates.  The doctor laughed a bit at his thoroughness, but I was glad he was with me to do the asking;  I just felt like I would cry if I talked, so I kept my mouth shut and nodded a lot, biting my lip and trying not to look scared even though I was absolutely terrified.  All I could do was sit with my arms wrapped tightly around my stomach, trying hard to feel the baby move and feeling more and more despair as I desperately attempted to convince myself that she was just asleep.  When the doctor finished talking and turned to leave, I heard my own voice and was startled to realize I was even speaking - I asked if we could hear the baby's heartbeat, just for a second, and he smiled indulgently as he nodded and left the room.

The nurse came back a few minutes later with a fetal monitor wand and moved it around on my stomach for a few seconds till we heard it, strong and steady.  Tom hadn't said anything, but as soon as the whooshing thump came over the speaker I heard him sigh with relief.  He was squeezing my hand so tight my fingers hurt, and I realized that even though he was holding it together way better than I was, he was every bit as worried.  I squeezed back and he smiled at me, leaning over to kiss my forehead.

 _"It's all going to be okay,"_   he whispered.

 

They admitted me right away and took me upstairs, checking me in to a room and bringing me a gown to change into while Tom was still downstairs doing my paperwork.  I was feeling sick from being worried and the longer he wasn't with me, the worse it got;  in just a few short minutes I got myself so worked up that I started throwing up.  When he finally came in he found me in the bathroom crying, just getting over a round of puking so violent that it had made my ribs hurt.

"Baby, stop it, everything's going to be okay," he chastised me gently, washing my face and bringing me out to the bed.  "They'll get you trussed up and it'll all be fine.  You probably won't even have to stay more than a couple of hours once it's done."

I nodded, letting him get me into the bed.  "Are you sure?" I asked, my voice sounding suddenly small and pitiful.  The look on his face was pure sympathy and I hated seeing it on him, but it was better than the blank nothingness that I knew would be the alternative and I really, _really_ needed his reassurance right then.

"Of course I'm sure, babe.  They'll put the thingy on, you'll rest for a little while so they can monitor you, then I'll take you home.  Simple.  And I just saw your regular doctor outside, no more of that other guy."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Absolutely."  He kissed me, holding my head with both hands in my hair until I relaxed against him.  I could feel the baby moving now, obviously agitated from all the vomiting. _Just keep moving,_ I begged her silently.   _Please just keep moving._

The fitting hurt so bad I cried;  they couldn't risk any sedation or pain medication because of the baby and the potential for interaction with my seizure meds, so I just had to hold my breath and bear it.  They let Tom stay with me and he started out holding my hand and whispering to me, but by the time it was done he was actively holding me still and speaking loudly to me so I could hear him over my own voice.  It was horrible and afterwards I was sore and still stinging for a long time - all I could do was lay on my side and sob, while he sat next to the bed with his head laid next to mine, stroking my back and humming to me.  After a while he got up and I heard him on his phone, telling Chris to send Ewan over with some food.

"Want me to have him get you your warm pajamas?" he asked, and I nodded enthusiastically - the hospital gown was flimsy and open-backed, and even though Tom went to the nurse's station every ten minutes or so to re-warm my blanket, I was freezing.  They hadn't told us yet how long I was going to have to stay and I couldn't stand the idea of shivering so hard the whole time.  I listened to him giving Chris very specific instructions for Ewan, then covered my face with my hands to hide my crying as he got back onto the bed behind me.  He slipped his arm over my hip and hugged me tight.

"Ewan's going to bring you some things, your pajamas and some socks and that blanket you like."

"And my pillow?"

"Yep, your pillow too."

"Okay."  I knew he could hear my voice shaking, but he also knew talking about it would make it worse, so he just snuggled up close behind me and rubbed my stomach till I dozed off.

 

When I woke up I was covered with my fluffy blanket from home with my favorite pillow tucked between my knees.  When I moved to look around for Tom, my feet poked out from under the blanket and I saw that I had thick socks on.  I could hear him, but couldn't see him;  I felt completely disoriented from my nap, but the soreness and stinging from the procedure had dulled down considerably and I felt like I could eat something.  The steady whooshing sound of the baby's heartbeat coming from the speaker over the bed made me smile and I sat up a little, hugging my pink pillow from home.

Tom came back in a few minutes later, smiling that beautiful smile at me, the one that always made me feel all kinds of better no matter what was wrong.

"You hear that?" he asked, pointing vaguely into the air.  I nodded, burying my smile in the pillow.  "I thought you might like to hear from Layla herself that she's fine, so I sweet talked the floor nurse into hooking you up."  He sat on the edge of the bed and I grabbed his arm, pulling it up under my chin, hugging it tight.  I was ridiculously emotional and was choking up again, getting ready to let loose a whole new rush of tears when Ewan came in with some soup.

"And the Scot saves the day - _again,"_   he proclaimed loudly, presenting the lidded cup grandly as Tom went around behind him to snatch the spoon from his back pocket.

"You wouldn't have had to - _again_ \- if you'd remembered it the first time."

"Okay Tommy, we all know you're a salty bitch but I'm not going to apologize.  You had me going through her underwear drawers looking for those damn pjs."

Tom shot him a warning look as he came out of the bathroom from washing the spoon, pointing it at him threateningly.  "If you say you had to take a wank break after handling her underwear I swear to god McDonough, you won't leave this hospital until they've sewn your pisshole shut."

"Kinky.  He's a twisted SOB isn't he?"  He handed me the soup, but Tom took it before I could grab it and popped the lid off;  he started picking little orange bits out of it and flicking them at the trash can next to the bed while Ewan stared at him with a confused look on his face.  Tom looked up and I started to giggle as he glanced back and forth between the two of us.

"What?  Anja doesn't like the carrots."

"You're picking the carrots out for her?"  Ewan threw his head back and laughed, loud.  "You are _so pussywhipped!"_

Tom just shook his head, his expression growing darker by the second.  "At least I have a pussy to be whipped by."

"Did you really say that in front of her?  My god you really said that in front of her."

"Yeah I did...you want a quarter for the swear jar?"

Ewan made a face as he handed me a cup of ice water.  "Well someone's knickers got dipped in the fire sauce this morning."  He slapped Tom's knee out of the way so he could sit down on the edge of the bed. "Fold those damn legs up, Goliath.  Being in bed with you must be like trying to sleep with a giraffe."

"You'll never find out."

"Yeah and I'm heartbroken because I pine for that hot Cree ass when I'm alone in my bed for the minute and a half that it takes your daughter to come back from the bathroom."

Tom's head shot up and a look of pure murder instantly flared up in his eyes.

_"What?"_

"Kidding, I'm kidding!  I swear boss, she never even looks at me."  He had his hands up in a surrender gesture and was scooting toward the foot of the bed, mischievous glee sparkling in his eyes.  He _loved_ baiting Tom, and Cara was a never-fail way to wind him up.  I started laughing and Tom turned his death glare to me.

"Don't get attached to him, Anja - he's going to have to be put down and I don't want you to cry when I bring his bloody collar home."

A nurse came in to check me then and the two of them left the room for a few minutes while she examined me;  she smiled and said I was doing good and could probably go home in a couple of hours, which made me so happy with relief that I ate the soup - with the carrots - before the boys came back.  When they walked in, I noticed Ewan had a red bump in the middle of his forehead and gave Tom a scolding look.

"What?" he protested, going to the window to look outside.  "He tripped."

Ewan was nodding.  "I did.  On his fucking size fifteen boot.  Did you know the blanket warmer in this place is big enough for a person to fit in?"

"Tom!"

"What?  I just showed it to him."

The baby's heart rate was speeding up - it always did when Tom was talking, I'd noticed - and Ewan got really interested in trying to interact with her while Tom stretched out on the guest sofa and flipped through the TV channels.  "So what's wrong with you?" he asked as he flicked my stomach with his finger, provoking the baby into kicking at the spot he was tapping on.

"I have an incompetent cervix."

"Incompetent?"  

He looked confused for a second until Tom said "Yeah, like you";  then a look of understanding came over his face and he nodded.  He was grinning like an idiot and I had to laugh...Ewan had no pretenses whatsoever about himself and his willingness to line himself up as the butt of every mean joke anyone had to tell had become endearing over the time I'd known him.  He knew he was an indispensable member of the team just as much as he was a walking punchline and that Tom loved him like a brother.  It was a strange family dynamic, but everyone seemed to know their place and be happy in it.  I was still sort of wondering what my role was, but decided against asking while Ewan was in the room...he would no doubt have something crude to contribute and end up leaving with another knot on his head.  Pacifist that I was, I decided to spare him the bruises.

Tom sent him back to the pub when the doctor came in to discuss the results of my procedure.

It was all pretty straightforward and easy to understand, basically;  my cervix couldn't handle the pressure of my growing uterus and had weakened to the point that it was opening, which could end up being catastrophic to the pregnancy unless remedied.  The remedy was the little band they had put around the opening to keep it shut.  I asked about the bleeding, worried that I'd leaked out some of the baby's support fluid, but the doctor assured me it was just torn membranes and tissues from the distress to my cervix itself, not anything from further inside.  That made me feel infinitely better and I grabbed the papers that the nurse had brought in, the instructional sheets that detailed everything the doctor was telling us.  Tom had read them already but I'd been too scared to even look at them.  Seeing the printed reinforcement of the doctor's words was like a huge weight off me, and I felt almost dizzy with relief knowing that it was very fixable with just a little bit of medical intervention and some bed rest.

But when he turned to Tom and said there were some things he was going to have to pay close attention to, I felt my back going stiff again.

"There's no reason for you to abstain from sex, but you're going to have to be careful and follow some very strict rules for a while."

Not since I'd heard the term  _potential for miscarriage_ had a series of words made my stomach clench up quite so hard.  I watched Tom nod his head as the doctor talked, his careful listening face firmly in place as he memorized every word, asking questions and making sure he understood it all.  He would have to wear a condom every time until I delivered to avoid putting me at risk for infection, but even more important than that, he was going to have to insert a cervical cap into me beforehand to avoid damaging my cervix if he banged into it.  I must have had a pained look on my face when he said that, because the doctor laughed a little and gave Tom the rest of the papers.  "Just ask the nurse if you have any more questions," he said as he left, stopping at the door to remind me that I was doing really well and everything should be fine.

The nurse came in with a little package and tore it open immediately, moving down to the end of the bed and tapping my knee to indicate that I should spread them.  I sighed;  it felt like I'd spent more time in the last eight hours with my legs apart than I had in my entire relationship with Tom.  She called him to the end of the bed and said she was going to show him how to put the cap in;  as the two of them started poking around in my nether regions, I pulled the blanket up over my face and hid.

 

We got to go home an hour later, after Tom had successfully put the cap in twice and the nurse felt like he had it mastered.  She seemed genuinely surprised that he figured it out so quickly and I rolled my eyes under the blanket...there was nothing he couldn't master, usually in an incredibly short period of time.  I didn't know why that made me feel irritated at him, but I kept my mouth shut and tried to pretend that my dignity and nerves weren't shot all to hell when he slowly tugged the blanket down so he could see my face.  The nurse had left us alone so I could get dressed, but as I started to get up he stopped me, climbing into the bed next to me and pulling me up against him in a big soft hug.

"You're such a brave girl," he whispered, kissing the side of my head.  "I'm sorry you had to go through all this."

I didn't look up at him, just let him hug me for a little while longer before I pushed against him, indicating I wanted to get up.  He scooted out of the bed and moved aside, letting me do it on my own, but standing close enough to grab me if I needed him.  I was a little unsteady on my feet and it hurt a bit to walk, but it seemed important to me that I do it by myself, and he seemed to understand.

When we got home, I walked past Cara and went straight to bed - Tom had called her so she knew what was going on, but I really didn't want to talk to anyone.  I just wanted to sleep and to lay as still as possible and forget about everyone in my life for the last eight hours having their hands in my private parts...my strict be-a-lady-at-all-costs upbringing had come back on me and I'd felt completely mortified every time anyone but Tom touched me.  He knew what my problem was and let me go, and I saw him shaking his head at Cara when she looked questioningly at him.

I had no idea how long I slept, but when I woke up it was dark and Tom was nestled in behind me with his arm over my hip.  I moved back against him and he stirred a bit in his sleep, his hips doing that instinctive thrust against my butt movement that they always did right before he woke up.  I waited till I heard his breathing change, then pulled his hand up to my chest to see if he would slip it inside my nightshirt.  He brushed his fingers over my breast for a second, very lightly, then moved his hand back down to my hip.

"No?" I asked, turning my head enough to feel his breath on my temple.  He shifted a little, then brought his hand back up to my neck, wrapping his long fingers around my throat.  It was his 'mine' gesture that he used every now and then, usually when he didn't really feel like interacting with me on an intimate level but still wanted to reassure me of who I belonged to.  There was a long pause before he answered.

"No.  Not right now, baby."

Part of me wanted to respond with a negative kneejerk reaction and start crying because he didn't want me...but another part, the part that had a little more common sense and a bit less emotional instability, realized he was probably exhausted both physically and mentally.  He'd stayed awake the whole time I was sleeping in the hospital, and that coupled with the stress of what had happened was probably conspiring to keep him out of the appropriate mood.  Of course it occurred to me that sex so soon after the procedure was probably a stupid idea...I didn't even really want the _sex,_ I just wanted _him,_ the comfort of his weight pushing against me, the warmth of his hands touching me and his breath on my face as he kissed me.  But I respected his decision and didn't try to lure him into it, which probably would have been easy enough;  a well placed push with my backside and he would be thrusting against me, slipping his cock in between my thighs as quick as he could get my undies pulled down.  At the very least he would slide his hand down between my legs and stroke me while he pushed against my hip, sucking at my nipples and fingering me until we both came.  But he didn't make any move to do any of those things, and when I wriggled back against him I was shocked to find he wasn't even hard.

Confused, I pulled at his fingers on my throat so I could turn to face him, but he moved his hand from my neck to my mouth and covered it, whispering _Shhhhh_ as he brought me close to him again, tucking my head up under his chin.  "Sleep, girly," he said quietly, with an authority in his voice that I knew I should probably obey.  But I couldn't stop thinking about it, about how few times he had ever turned down sex with me, and the more I thought about it the more upset I got till I started to choke up crying.  He was immediately wide awake and sat up, staring at me with concern mixed with sympathy all over his face.

"Baby, no, don't," he quieted me, gathering me up against him and trying to hold me, but I struggled against him till he let go.  I was sore all over from being so tense after the procedure and everything was starting to hurt, but that wasn't why I didn't want him holding me.  I felt rejected, even though I _knew_ that wasn't what was happening.  He caught on quick and just sat there, blocking my way out of the bed, but not interfering with me in any other way.  After a while he finally held his hand out, palm up, and waited.

I really wanted to ignore it, to just turn over and put my back to him and go to sleep without talking to him any more, but he didn't deserve that and I knew it.  I knew it was just my hormones, making me act a fool.  But they were a strong influence, and as I stared at his big hand in front of me, I started to tear up again.

This time he didn't try to force me to accept his affection, he just sat there, hand still out, until I leaned forward and laid my head on it.  It wasn't quite what he'd wanted me to do, but he scooted toward me till he could lower my head onto his knee and sat there rubbing the back of my neck until I'd calmed again.

"It's not even that, is it babe."

I wasn't sure what he meant, so I kept silent, crying as quietly as I could but failing pretty miserably.

"You don't even really want to have sex, do you sweetheart?  You don't even feel like it.  You just need to know that I still want you, and hearing me say no scares you."

I nodded, chewing on my fingers.  "Yeah."

"I'm sorry baby.  You know I'm _always_ going to want you, even when I shouldn't.  I even thought about it at the hospital, why do you think I was sitting across the room on the sofa with a magazine on my lap?" He tugged at my hair but I didn't laugh.  "I'm really tired right now. _You're_ really tired.  You're probably hurting pretty bad and honestly, I'm nervous about getting that close to your cervix until it's stronger. That's all there is between me and the baby and that sort of freaks me out."  I heard him sigh, felt him take his hand off my neck and knew he was probably rubbing his eyes.  There was a long silence where all I could hear was his breathing and mine, both of us sounding a bit labored and ragged.  "But I promise you babe, tomorrow I'm going out for condoms."

I finally laughed a little;  I knew condoms weren't his favorite thing in the world, but I also knew he'd wear them for me for as long as was even remotely necessary.  He laid down on his back and opened his arms to me, patting himself on the chest.  "Come on babe, get in here where you belong."

I felt really weary and tired and was still upset that something had gone wrong in my thus far perfect pregnancy...there was a big aching place in my chest that felt like it was going to choke me if I breathed too deep or spoke too loud, and as I settled in on Tom I gave him a quick pout.  "Where do I belong?"

"Right here, baby girl."  He tapped his chest, just below the faded scar where I'd bit him so long ago.  "Next to my heart."

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	51. Chapter 51

 

 

The cervical ring did what it was supposed to do, padlocking the front door of the baby hotel as Ewan so eloquently put it when Tom wasn't listening.  But every couple of weeks I had to have it replaced as my uterus grew to accommodate the baby, and it was a painfully harrowing procedure each time.  Tom sat with me for every one of them, talking me through it, keeping me calm and then comforting me afterwards like the beautiful angel he was.   _My_ beautiful angel.  But even angels trip up from time to time...some even fall, and some take half of heaven with them when they do.

Toward the middle of Autumn, his mood started becoming surly and short tempered, without any indication as to why.  He was in between steroid treatments so I couldn't put it to the meds...I kept telling myself it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, he had been mercurial ever since I'd first met him, but this was different and I wasn't the only one that noticed.  Ewan began skirting a safe distance around him, not making noise, behaving himself during his shifts.  Chris was quiet - quieter than usual - and I noticed his eyes were either always on Tom or looking around for him.  It really felt like he knew something I didn't, but it was just as hard to get information out of him as it was to get it from Tom, so I didn't bother trying.

Until the day we were on our way to pick up an order for the pub from a warehouse out of town and stopped to get Chris. I wasn't allowed to lift anything more than five pounds and was basically useless, so he gave up his day off to come help.

As soon as he was in the car I knew something wasn't right.  I don't know if it was the chilly way they looked at each other as he got in, or if it was the song that came on the radio that Tom hurriedly turned off, or the way that Chris slunk into the back seat like it was the last place on earth he wanted to be...but when I made an offhanded comment about not being any good to them till after the baby was born, something was set off and Tom started that slow burn that always led to an explosion.

"Don't say shit like that Anja."

"What?"

"Don't fucking talk like that, you're growing a fucking baby, that's hardly useless."  His voice was a low snarl, not even attempting to hide his annoyance as he snapped at me, and his face was just as angry as his tone.  It was that tone more than the actual words that took me by surprise, and I think I must have looked hurt as I sat there and stared at him, not sure what to say.  Chris kicked the back of Tom's seat hard enough to jostle him.

"Don't talk to her like that," he growled.

I knew something _very_ bad was about to go down but I was stuck in the car with them, with nothing to do but watch it happen.  The passenger front seat was suddenly a very uneasy place to be and I tried to make myself as small as possible.

"Don't tell me how to talk to my wife."

"Then don't talk to her like an asshole, she deserves better than that."

They both fell silent and I made my second big mistake then.  I turned around and told Chris it was okay.  He rolled his eyes, looking out the window as he shook his head.

"It's not okay.  Dumb shit never had anything good in his life and when he finally does he spends half his time snarling at it like a fucking dog that needs to be put down."

I saw Tom's knuckles go white as he gripped the steering wheel hard enough to tense the long tendons from his wrists to his elbows.   _"Shut the fuck up."_

"Why don't you make me, dumbass?"  Chris drew his legs back and kicked Tom's seat so hard with both feet that it jolted him.  If I hadn't had my seatbelt on, I would probably have hit the windshield when he slammed on the brakes - the car wasn't even completely stopped before Chris swung his door open and got out, slamming his fist into the driver side window while Tom put the car in park and jumped out after him.  I didn't know what to do so I got out too, but I didn't even make it around the front of the car before Tom had grabbed Chris and slammed him onto the hood.  Both their feet were off the ground, Chris on his back on the hood, Tom on top of him, his hands knotted in the front of Chris's shirt.

It was on then.  And all I could do was stay out of their way and watch.

They slid off the hood and threw a few punches at each other, each one landing hard, both boys instantly bleeding from their noses and mouths;  I realized pretty quick that yelling at them to stop was a pointless endeavor, that they were going to continue until it was out of their systems or one of them was unconscious, but I followed them around the car as they threw each other around like neither of them weighed anything.  I knew Tom was every bit as strong as Chris, but seeing him punch him hard enough to spin him around backwards was shocking.  This went on for several minutes, both of them throwing punches in silence except for the occasional grunts of pain when fists hit faces or drove hard into stomachs and ribs, until finally Chris hurled Tom far enough away from him that it took him a while to get back up.

We both stood there waiting to see if he was going to stop or come at him again.  I had my hands over my mouth, horrified at the sheer brutality that these two men who _loved_ each other were heaping onto each other - because of me.  But there was something more to it than that.  Something told me this wasn't as simple as an argument over how Tom treated me...if that actually had anything to do with it at all.  Chris was breathing heavy, bleeding copiously, one hand tucked up under his arm to cradle ribs that were probably bruised if not broken, his eyes locked to Tom to see if he was going to get up.

When he did, I felt my stomach go cold.

Tom slowly got up on his hands and knees, his forehead resting on the ground, breathing hard and wheezing.   _Oh shit his lungs_ was all I could think and I started toward him, but Chris reached out and grabbed my arm, shaking his head furiously.

"Don't go near him."

He got up slowly till he was crouched on one knee with his head still down, and for a few short seconds I thought maybe it was over.  But he slowly raised his head, his eyes locked on Chris, a look of murderous black rage burning in them.  There was no blue in his irises, just that endless, bottomless black.

Chris held his hands out in front of him, motioning for him to bring it as a cheerfully malicious smile spread across his face.  "Come at me skinnyboy, 'cause I can do this _all day."_ There was a biting taunt in his voice and I groaned out loud.  This was obviously far from over.

A slow grin spread across Tom's face, but it didn't look like him.  Chris turned slightly toward me, never taking his eyes off him.

"I know that look.  You better move out of the way Anja, he's lost it."  He reached out to give me a little push to get me moving.  "He can't see you now, all he can see is me."

I believed him - I didn't even question it, I just hurriedly moved to the front of the car, not sure what else to do.  Their eyes were locked to each other and Tom was whispering something that sounded like gibberish at first.  After several seconds I realized he was muttering something in Cree.

"Chris, maybe you should just - "

I didn't get to finish telling him to get in the car before Tom hurled himself at him, taking him down in a flying tackle that sent them both sprawling in the dirt.  Tom immediately got the upper hand and sat on Chris's stomach, his hands gripped around his throat, slamming his head into the ground.  But Chris's hands were around his neck too, and I knew neither one of them was going to give up until someone was really hurt.

I popped the trunk and grabbed one of the whiskey bottles we'd just picked up from our first stop.  I had no idea what I was going to do with it, but breaking it over Tom's head seemed the likely solution to the current situation.  I actually had it raised and was psyching myself up to do it when Chris pulled his knee up and kicked Tom hard, square between the legs.  There was a painful sounding groan and Tom fell over off him, curling up into himself, his hands clasped to his crotch as he snarled _"You fucker!"_

Chris stood up over him, panting, his face a vicious scowl of rage.  "You've reproduced enough," he growled, drawing back to kick him again.

I did the only thing I could think to do.  I hit him with the bottle.

 

 

Fortunately I wasn't tall enough to hit him in the head and the bottle sort of bounced off his shoulder - but it got his attention and kept him from permanently disabling my husband's reproductive abilities.  We leaned against the car and watched Tom as he got up onto his hands and knees and threw up, retching violently in between groaning angry curses.  I felt like I should be helping him, but he still didn't seem like himself and Chris told me to just stay back until he came to us.

"Is he crying?"

"He oughtta be."

"What's he saying?"

"Sounds like he's cussing me in Cree."  Chris took the bottle from my hand and tossed it toward Tom;  it rolled to a stop near his knee and he slowly reached for it as Chris sank to the ground beside the car.  I hadn't noticed until right then that he was bleeding badly from his nose.  He swiped at it with the back of his hand and frowned.  "Knock it off Tommy, you're sounding possessed and it's creeping your wife out."

"Stop telling me what to do with my wife.  She's _mine."_

"Yeah and I'm gonna start kicking you in the balls every time you act like a jackass to her, how's that grab ya?"

_"Fuck you."_

I'd had enough and opened the car door just to slam it, getting their attention turned to me.  "I think maybe that's what needs to happen here.  You two should just fuck each other and get it over with."

They both stared at me for a long moment and I noticed then that Tom's face was bruised and blood was pouring from his lip.  He shook his head, a slow, painful smile breaking his scowl as he bent forward and rested his forehead on the ground.

"Not today.  I need to wait for my balls to come down from my eye sockets."

Chris shrugged, starting to laugh a little.  "I'm not in the mood anyway."

 

 

Half an hour later we were still out there by the side of the road.  I'd long since gotten back in the car and left them to talk, but I rolled the windows down so I could listen.  If they could act like this in front of me, I could damn well listen to what they had to say to each other afterward.  They were leaning against the trunk of the car, spitting blood on each other's boots, passing the whiskey bottle back and forth.

"What did you call me?"

"I dunno."

"You don't know?"

Tom shook his head, grinning a little through his split lip.  "No idea.  It just sounded good."  Chris laughed and pushed him, then put an arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah, it did sound pretty cool."  He tugged Tom up close against him;  I had to put my hand over my mouth to stifle a loud gasp of surprise when he pressed his lips to the side of his head.  "This is about mom, isn't it?"

Tom nodded, looking up at the sky, squinting against the bright sunlight.  "My mom didn't love me, your mom did.  She was the only real mother I ever had."

"She was the only mother I ever had too, ya know."

"I know."  There was a long silence and I watched through the back window as Chris brushed Tom's hair back off his face with his fingers, pressing another soft kiss to his temple to calm him.  "It's just not fair that my worthless mother is still out there somewhere and Meredith isn't."

"I know."

They sat there in silence for a while, until finally Tom threw up one more time and Chris climbed into the back seat, reaching up past me to get a handful of napkins from the glove compartment to start packing into his bleeding nose.  I knew better than to ask any questions, so I sat there in silence, waiting for Tom to get in.  I knew neither of them would answer me anyway.

 

 

That night Tom was in the bathroom inspecting his split lip in the mirror while I sat in the bed, watching him through the open doorway.  I didn't know if I should talk to him or just turn the light off and go to sleep - his mood was so uncertain, it was making me nervous wondering if he was going to flip out or settle down.

"Is it bad?" I finally asked when I heard him curse as he brushed his teeth.  He spit and then stood leaning on the sink, his head down for a long moment before he shut off the light and came to bed.

"No."

"It has to be, I saw it.  Chris wasn't going easy on you."  I moved over so he could settle into the bed, his arms going around my hips as he buried his face against my stomach.  "I thought you two were going to kill each other."

He didn't say anything and it was obvious he didn't intend to.  But I wanted to talk - there was so much I wanted to know, about Chris's mom and Tom's relationship with her.  If he was still affected this strongly by her death, however long after the fact it was, there had to have been something deep between them.

"She was special to you, wasn't she?"

He nodded against my stomach, sighing heavily.

"Would you tell me about her?  You've talked about her so little, I actually thought she was still alive somewhere."  He flinched a little, but still didn't say anything.  I knew I was pushing, but I also knew just how far I _could_ push before he got angry.  "How long has it been?" 

When he finally answered, his voice was so quiet I had to hold my breath to hear him.  "Today...this morning...it's been eleven years since she died.  You'd think it would get easier, wouldn't you."

I honestly didn't know what to say to him.  The only person in my life that had died during my adulthood was Sam, and I knew that was different, entirely different, from what Tom was feeling.  My parents had died when I was a baby, so I had nothing by way of personal experience to offer him.  So I just sat there and let him nuzzle my stomach while I stroked his hair, listening to his breathing and somehow getting the feeling this was going to get so very much worse before it got better.

 

 

Early the next morning I was putting on some coffee when someone knocked on the door;  it was far too early for it to be Ewan, and just a bit too early for Chris, so it was with a little bit of nervous panic that I peeked out the window to see who it was before I opened it.  Tom's dad was standing there, dressed for work, holding his briefcase and looking distinctly uncomfortable.  I quickly unlocked the door and brought him in.

"Sorry about the ungodly hour, Anja," he apologized on his way past me, his eyes straying toward the hallway to the bedroom.  "Is Tommy up yet?"

"Yeah, he's in the shower, he'll be out in a minute."  I headed back to the kitchen for the coffee.  "Have a seat, have you had breakfast yet?"

Instead of sitting in the livingroom like I'd expected him to, he followed me into the kitchen, settling at the table as he opened his briefcase and pulled out some papers.   _Oh shit_   was all I could think - my head was full of the memory of spreading the contents of a file across this very table, not so terribly long ago.  The look on Adam's face told me these particular papers were going to affect Tom the same way the others had.

I poured him a cup of coffee and set it in front of him.  "I'll go get him."

He nodded, thanking me quietly.

 

Tom sat down across from his dad, his eyes steadfastly refusing to stray to the papers sorted neatly in front of him;  he kept them on Adam, but the look on his face was heartbreakingly apprehensive - and maybe a little bit scared, though I didn't have a lot of experience seeing that particular emotion in him, so I wasn't entirely sure that was what I was looking at.  Adam rubbed his hands over his face, the same way Tom always did when he was nervous.  I decided I should make my exit before they got started and picked up my glass of orange juice.  "I'll be in the bedroom if anybody needs me."

They both looked at me, both of them shaking their heads.

"You're probably gonna want her to stay for this, son," Adam said quietly as Tom reached his hand out for me.  I wasn't sure this was where I really wanted to be, hearing firsthand whatever news Adam had wrapped up in those ominous looking papers, but Tom had leaned forward and grabbed my hand, tugging me toward him so that I had no choice but to sit down.

"Go ahead, Pop."

He turned over a long piece of paper and slid it across the table.  It was all I could do not to gasp out loud when I saw the pictures on it...the picture of Tom from his missing child poster, a smiling little twelve year old cherub with years of experience already showing in his eyes, though it was the second picture that shocked me.  It was an age progression photo, of what he might look like now as an adult.  It was eerily close to being accurate.

Tom just stared at it, then pushed it away.

Nobody said anything, so I slid it over in front of me and took a close look.  At the top, in bold lettering, were the words _Endangered Runaway._  I stared at it in confusion for a minute.

"Why endangered?  And why the age progression?  He's an adult, there's nobody looking for him, is there?"  I looked from Adam to Tom, but neither of them would look back at me - their eyes were locked on each other.   _"Is_ there?"

When Adam finally responded, his voice sounded tired and almost resigned.

"That last foster home he ran away from, the guy filed a report saying Tom was violent and dangerous.  So Tom's mama told the police he was mentally ill so they wouldn't lock him up as a juvie if they found him."

My legal training started coming back to me as I thought about it.  Endangered runaways and missing persons with mental illnesses were never officially taken off the hunt list until they were found, whether it was dead or alive, a week later or decades down the road.  I remembered seeing files on people who'd been missing for thirty years or more, still on the missing roster.

"This age progression is labeled as age thirty.  He's thirty now.  This poster is _new."_  I looked up in surprise.  "She's still looking for him?"

Adam nodded.

"Oh my god."  Tom was staring at the table now, his face blank and unreadable.  I knew that look far too well.  It meant he was dealing with emotions so heavy that the best he could do was filter them through a dispassionate indifference that myself and anyone else who truly knew him understood to be anything but.  Adam obviously understood it, because he made no attempt to break into it.  Pulling the poster back toward himself, he turned it over so that it was face down on the table.

"I was brought this by an associate that I had helping me when I was trying to find you.  He still had some feelers out in the field that he hadn't called off yet and this came up yesterday, so he handed it over, thought we might want to know you're still on the Michigan state books."

Tom still wasn't talking, so he continued.

"You've got one question to answer, son.  Do you want your mom to know you're alive?"

There was a long silence, heavy and overbearingly uncomfortable, until Tom finally leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face.

_"Fuuuuuccccck."_

 

 

To be continued... 


	52. Chapter 52

 

 

 

Nearly a week after Pop asked his question, Tom made his decision.

"No."

There was no context to it, but we all knew what he was answering.  Pop was sitting at the bar eating a grilled cheese sandwich and just nodded, acknowledging it but not saying anything.  I thought he actually looked relieved, but the troubled look on Tom's face had been there for days and the simple declaration did nothing to remove it.  He hadn't talked to me about it and I wasn't about to push for his thoughts now.

I heard the two of them later, after closing, talking with their heads close together;  it was obvious by their posture that their conversation was private, but I heard some of it as I walked past them and felt something clench up in my gut.  Tom was asking Pop what it would take for him to be taken off the endangered list so they would stop looking for him.  If they were putting out new posters with his face on them, that meant his mother - or at the very least, one of his foster families - was actively searching, and neither option could be good.

"Nothing except have yourself declared dead, change your name, get a new identity," Pop told him, shaking his head.  "And I don't think you want to do all that at this point in your life."

Tom scowled, a much deeper look of displeasure than his scowls usually projected, and glanced over at me.  I didn't even try to pretend like I was doing anything innocent - I just gave him a weak little smile and tried to convey to him without words that the decision was his and I would go along with whatever he decided.  His eyes dropped to my stomach and he stared at the bump for a long time.

"Then I guess maybe we just tell her I'm alive and then tell her to fuck back off."

Pop just nodded.

 

 

The bruises from his fight with Chris had long since healed, the split lip leaving a little scar that did nothing to detract from the skewered beauty of his face.  It was just another mark, a reminder of something else he'd survived, though a fistfight with his best buddy wasn't much to survive in comparison to the big picture.  He'd more than held his own.  The real pain, I knew, was from what had caused the fight, and that part was the tricky bit as far as pulling through unscathed.  But he still hadn't agreed to tell me anything about his relationship with Meredith and it was all I could do to keep my imagination from going nuts with it.  I knew he'd lived with her and Chris.  I knew she's been a surrogate mother to him and had given him the love and attention that his own mother failed to provide.  She'd probably turned a blind eye to whatever he and Chris got up to in their wild teen years.  But eleven years after her death he was still unable to process his emotions toward her, and that worried me.

If he had to see his own mother, now, so soon after the raw pain I'd heard in his voice that day as he and Chris sat on the back of the car, clumsily comforting each other while wiping blood off each other's faces...nothing about this could be good.  Nothing.

_My mother didn't love me...yours did._

 

He crawled into bed with me that night and I kissed that new little scar, pressing my fingertip to it as he settled in beside me.  I didn't expect him to have any ideas about sex, not after the decision he'd made that day, but as his hands slid up under my nightshirt I remembered - _oh yeah, this is the guy that ambushed me in the shower the day he saw a wanted poster with his own face on it._

"Tom," I said quietly, letting him pull me toward him by my hips.  "I've never seen you go back on a decision like that.  Not that easily.  Was it because of me?"

He was nibbling at my throat and whispered _Shhhhh,_ but if there was one thing I knew about him, it was that if I kept talking long enough he would eventually do one of two things.  He would give in in frustration and answer me, or he would clamp a hand over my mouth and growl at me to shut up.  "It was, wasn't it," I kept on, taking his hands and pushing them down so he couldn't silence me with them.  "You decided to let her know you're alive because of me and the baby."  I squirmed around as he turned me on my back and pushed his hand between my legs, his warm mouth kissing across my collarbone.  "You did, didn't you?"

"Yes."

The single word shocked me - not because it wasn't what I was expecting to hear, but because he'd said it at all, and with so little pushing on my part.

"I'm s- "

"Don't," he interrupted me, halting the kisses as he laid his forehead against my shoulder.  "Just don't, Anja.  Don't be sorry."

"But you wanted to ignore her.  You thought about it all week and said no to contacting her.  Then you looked at me and - "

"Stop."

His tone left absolutely nothing to guesswork and I shut my mouth immediately.  He was prone to slapping the inside of my thigh to get me to take him seriously and obedience seemed like the best option unless I wanted a stinging leg and hurt feelings.  I was already uncomfortable from being on my back, the baby's weight putting pressure on my spine, so I wriggled around until he let me tilt a little onto my side and swallowed all my questions.  He was usually pretty good at guessing them anyway, and would pick and choose which ones he wanted to answer if the mood struck him.  Once I was settled again, he sighed and dug his chin into my shoulder, a little bit harder than he needed to.

"I just...I realized something, when I looked at you," he said quietly, his voice a raspy whisper.  "You and the pup.  I can't just drop off the map when it suits me, you guys are the important thing now.  Why should I let her dictate what the rest of my life is like?  She already decided how the first part went and she sorta sucked at it."  He moved his face so that his mouth pushed up against the side of my neck.  "You and pup and Cara and Pop, Emma...Chris and Ewan...you're all my family now.  I have to do what's best for the lot of us, not just for me.  Yeah, I don't want her in my life, but if I have to open the door just long enough for her to get a look at me before I close it again, then okay.  It's not like she can make me come home, right?"

"No, I guess not."

He stopped talking then, and I knew there weren't going to be any more words for now - he scooted down to my hips and was kissing across my stomach, breathing softly on my skin, murmuring something so quietly that I could barely hear the sound.  I knew what he was saying wasn't for me...whatever was ghosting from his lips was between him and the baby, and I had no doubt she could hear and understand him.  There was a little fluttery sensation just below my bellybutton, a tickling followed by a quick push that I assumed was a foot.  Tom chuckled softly and laid his head on my stomach, pushing against me slowly to rock her back to sleep.

 

 

Nearly a month went by and everything was quiet.  I thought maybe nothing was going to come of any of it;  Tom was happy, the nervous surliness settled into something like a cheerful contentment, and eventually everyone stopped tiptoeing around him like they were afraid of catching a left hook to the head.  The pup took a major growth spurt and I was suddenly fullblown pregnant, no longer in that in-between stage where I looked like I might just be getting fat - I was now undeniably knocked up, and Tom beamed with pride and an unashamed lust every time he looked at me.  He definitely had a pregnancy kink, we discovered.  I wasn't complaining, but I was so tired and his constant need for sex wasn't helping any.  But I dutifully gave it up every time he came to me, and after the nausea stage passed, I started really enjoying the new surge of hormones and what they did to my libido - and Tom's.

They made him _nuts._  All I had to do was walk into the room and his head would go up, sniffing the air, his eyes going dark as he zeroed in on my location.  More often than not he would stop whatever he was doing and drag me into the back if we were at the pub, or pull me to the floor on the spot if we were at home.  Mostly it was straightforward and quick, without the usual mix of kink and inventiveness - he just needed to get off fast and I honestly didn't care if I came or not.  Just having him inside me was intensely fulfilling and I found myself craving it, wanting it, _needing_ it like an addiction, desperate to see his face as his mouth fell open and his eyes closed tight when he came and to hear his voice catch in his throat as he gasped and moaned my name.  Each time was like a continuance of the last, like we were just taking breaks every now and then and the day was just one long round of sex.  We would screw five or six times in a day, and by the time we crawled into bed at night I would finally be ready to finish.  He would settle in however I wanted him, whether it was on top of me or me on top of him, or him kneeling between my legs licking me...and the climax was always earthshaking, leaving me either laughing hysterically or sobbing uncontrollably.  He loved it, I loved it, and the baby would almost always calm right down and go to sleep immediately.  I got the best rest of my life during those weeks, with Tom holding me or spooned up close behind me, all sated and warm and happy.

Things were good.

 

 

We were at the pub a couple of weeks later, just a typical early evening as the after work crowd was starting to pour in when I noticed Tom was sniffing the air a lot, a look of confusion on his face.  I kept looking around to try to figure out what he was smelling, but nothing stood out to me until I stopped in front of Pop and leaned on the bar to rest for a minute.  I'd been waiting tables and my back was killing me, so I leaned across the bar to take the weight of my heavy stomach off my spine and smiled at him.  He smiled back, but I noticed his eyes were darting nervously over to Tom every few seconds.  I knew he had to know what was up.  I also knew he couldn't deny me anything...Pop adored me and I wasn't above using that preferential attitude to my advantage.

"What's he smelling, Pop?"

He hesitated for a long moment, then leaned forward to put his face close to mine.  "Play it cool, girl.  You see that woman by the door?  Blonde, pretty, about fifty?"

I looked, trying not to look like I was looking.  There was definitely an older blonde sitting by the door, and she was very purposefully watching Tom.  I looked back at Pop, suddenly too tongue tied to say anything.  He nodded and went back to eating his sandwich.  "That's Tommy's mama."

I finally got my speaking ability back and glared at him, ready to tear into him for not saying something already, but he shook his head at me.  "She doesn't want to interfere with him, she just wanted to get a look at him.  She'll be on her way soon."

"Does he know?"

"No, he can't figure out what he's smelling.  He recognizes her scent but it's been too long, he can't place it."

"You let her come here without telling him?  No...no way, Pop.  He's going to figure it out and he's going to feel betrayed, you've got to tell him she's here."

Over his shoulder just then I saw my husband walking through the crowd toward the woman.  It was like watching it in slow motion, people moving out of his way, the tall dark figure of him cutting through the patternless motion until he stood at her table, looking down at her.  I guess the look on my face must have given away the sudden rush of panic I felt, because Pop turned around to look.

"Shit, here we go."

 

 

There was no drama, no tense scene, no hugs or tearful reunion or yelling.  Tom just pulled her chair out and led her to a table in the back, away from the noise, and motioned for Pop and I to join them.  I didn't want to go, but Tom was giving me a pleading look from across the room that told me _I need you_ clearer than any words ever could have, so I let Pop take my hand and pull me along behind him to the back.

Once we got there, Tom pulled the table out so I could scoot into the booth comfortably, then he sat down across from his mother.   _His mother._  The whole thing seemed so surreal...Tom had always been a singular entity in my head, since the day I met him.  He didn't belong to anyone, he was just sort of _there_ and always had been, without any obvious starting point.  I never thought of him as having parents.  And now both of them, his mom and his dad, were sitting at the table with him.  I didn't really know what to make of it and just sort of sat there, trying to wrap my head around the whole situation, wondering how long it would take for it to go south.

Tom drew a deep breath, drumming his fingers on the table for a second before he motioned toward me.  "This is my wife, Anja.  Anja..."  He paused a long time, and I could tell he was struggling with his next words.  "This is my mother, Diana."

I noticed there was the slightest bit of a bite in his voice when he said _mother,_ but I pretended like I didn't hear it and nodded across the table at her.  She smiled, her eyes falling to my big belly, wedged up against the edge of the table.

"Looks like I'm about to be a grandmother."

Nobody said anything;  out of the corner of my eye I saw both Tom and Pop tense up.   _No, you're not_   was on the tip of my tongue, along with a curse that I'm sure would have shocked her apparently genteel manners.  Everything about this woman was setting my teeth on edge, from her pretty face to her perfect hair to her nice clothes and the sweet way she was smiling at us all, as if everything was okay.  But under the smile I could see it - the truth of her carefully polished facade.  She was nervous, probably more than we were.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, full of nobody looking at anybody else.  Somewhere toward the end of it, Diana's voice broke through everyone's loss for words.

"God, he looks just like you, Adam."

 _Don't talk about him like he's not here,_ I begged her angrily inside my head.   _Don't do that to him.  He's not a kid anymore._

There was another miserable wave of quiet, punctuated by the clink of bottles and the melded din of voices from the other tables;  we were far enough away from everyone else that we had a measure of quiet in our little bubble of semi solitude, but the muted conversations around us provided an oddly comforting cushion to push back against, distancing ourselves from this woman that nobody wanted to be close to.  Pop finally cleared his throat and ended the standoff.

"You wanted to see him, Diana.  You said you were going to just get a look and go but here we are, so I'm assuming you have something you want to say to him?"

Tom was watching her in silence, a strange look in his eyes.

"I know, I'm sorry...I just wanted to see that he was...that he was okay.  I honestly thought he must be dead, after all this time."

Pop sat back and laid his hands on the table, that old lawyer trick that I knew so well thanks to Laing.  He was going to get her to trust him so she would tell the truth.  "Don't try to pull sympathy Diana, there's nobody at this table with an ounce to offer you."

"Adam - "

"Why are you here?"  His voice got a little louder, establishing his dominance.  "I told you he was alive, that he's fine and has a good life and did great for himself without help from either of us.  I understand wanting to see him, but you could have done that from the door and been long gone.  So what do you want?"

Her mouth was open in shock, just staring at him like he was the rudest person she'd ever met, and I suddenly realized that these two people used to be married.  It was surprising, how much they looked like they didn't belong together.  Did Tom and I strike people that way when they looked at us...?

"I wanted...I thought...I thought maybe he might have some questions he wanted to ask me."

Tom laughed, a quiet little huff as he looked down at the table, a grim smile tugging at his lips while he shook his head.  "Yeah, I want to know why."

Diana looked confused.  "Why?"

"Yes, _why_.  Mine and Emma's lives went straight to hell the minute you kicked dad out.  Why did you do it?"  He was going straight for the big guns - no small talk -  and I glanced nervously toward the bar.  Chris was standing there, drying glasses, but I could tell he was watching the situation closely.

"Darling, I - "  She stopped, the look on her face unsure, like she was struggling to figure out the answer.  I saw Tom wince when she called him darling.  "I...I had to get you away from _him."_  She was looking at Adam now, a silent but astoundingly bold accusation in her eyes. 

Tom's breathing was starting to speed up and it worried me - his head was tilted down, but he was looking at her out of the tops of his eyes, the way I'd seen him look at Eric so long ago.  The table was between them but I suddenly felt afraid for her safety, and it chilled me.  I think Pop must have gotten the same vibe I did because he sat forward and I knew he was putting a hand on Tom's knee under the table.

"How about you talk to me, Diana," he said quietly, taking control of the conversation back.  "Just tell me what made you do it.  We all need to know and I think you need to hear yourself say it."

There was a heavy sigh before she touched her forehead for a second, like she was gathering her nerve to say something she knew wouldn't be taken well.  "He was just such a scary child - no child acts like that, Adam.  I don't know what you were teaching him but - "

"Wait a second.  What?  What I was _teaching_ him?"

"You and him were always together, he was just like you, my god look at the two of you now!  You even sit the same way."

"Diana - "

"You always had that weird tribal stuff you talked about, the earth spirit stuff and the wolves and the sky - he was never going to be normal with you filling his head with all that nonsense.  He already looked different from other children, and with you raising him in that heathen religion of yours - "

I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from saying something, anything, to shut her up.  Her voice was strangely calm and controlled, but there was an urgency in it, like she knew her time at this table was limited and she had to get it all out quickly.  But I could see Adam's normally calm demeanor shifting, and for a second I couldn't tell if I was looking at him or at Tom.

_"What the hell are you talking about?"_

"Look at him Adam!  He's still just like you, look at his hair, he's practically sitting on it.  You made sure he was different, what chance did he have?!"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?  He's Cree, but it's always been his decision to live like one or not.  I never made him do anything!"

"He's not all Cree, he's half me too you know!"

Adam dropped his voice to a mildly threatening pitch, something I'd never heard him do before.  "Well maybe you should have concentrated a little harder on giving him something to emulate instead of trying to veto every decision he ever made about what he wanted to be."

"Ha!"  It was a derisive laugh and I saw Tom flinch, but she didn't seem to notice.  She'd barely even looked at him since she and Adam had started arguing, and a clear picture of Tom's childhood was starting to form.  "He was never going to survive in the real world being like that!"

"Fuck almighty, look at him Diana!  You're sitting in his pub, this place is _his!_  He made it on his own and he's been taking care of Emma for all these years, did you know that?  He's looked after his little sister while you and me were off living our own lives and he did more than just survive.  He's somebody _important,_ he's _respected_ around here.  People love him.  He's built himself a family out of people he chose to replace you and me because we were too twisted up in ourselves to give a shit about him."  He'd been leaning forward over the table and sat back again, catching his breath for a second as he gathered his thoughts and calmed down.  "He let me back into his life because he's got a good heart, not because I deserved it."  He pointed at me suddenly.  "That woman sitting right there?  She left an executive position in a huge corporation to be with him.  That bartender over there?  That's his best friend, they call each other brother, that man's mom stepped up and mothered this boy when he needed it the most.   _Where were you while all that was going on?"_

"You know where - "

"It doesn't even matter, Diana.  What matters is he has proven every word you've said _wrong._  He did it and he did it on his own.  Did you know he's got a half grown daughter?  Yeah, I've got a granddaughter, and she's brilliant, she's sixteen and halfway through college already.  Smartest kid I ever met.  She's exactly like him.  Now sit there and tell me again that he never had a chance of making it in the real world."

Tom and I both looked at her.  It was obvious Pop wasn't about to let her off the hook for anything.

"You want to know why I made you leave.  Alright, I'll tell you."  She glanced at Tom for just a second, then her eyes fell to some nondescript spot at the center of the table.  "A neighborhood boy was picking on Emma one day, in our front yard.  Just doing things that little boys do, being mean, nothing even serious, but Emma was crying and Tommy came around from the back yard and saw it.  I watched through the kitchen window as he grabbed that little boy and picked up a stick from the yard and slashed it across his throat like he was murdering him.  Of course, it was just a stick so it didn't do any real damage, but Tommy's face was so... _scary_...he was just a child but I was terrified of him.  There were so many instances like that, unsettling things that he did.  He was just so wild, and if he'd had a knife that day I know he would have slit that boy's throat.  You can't convince me he wouldn't have."  She looked at Adam, a scolding anger in her eyes.  "That didn't come from my side of the family, Adam."

He rolled his eyes, raking one hand through his hair in frustration.  "Why you always have to lay blame?  You've always tried to lay blame - "

_"It didn't come from my side!"_

"Honey, it didn't come from my side either!  You think we're savages who can't control our primitive instincts?  Fuck you, woman."

Things were sliding quickly out of control, but Tom didn't seem interested in stopping it, so I kept my mouth shut and just watched as Diana glared coldly across the table at Pop.  "Then where did he get it?"

"He doesn't have to have gotten it from anywhere.  Some kids are just born that way, some chemical thing in their brains, they're wired a certain way - it doesn't mean it's anyone's fault.  And it doesn't mean there was anything wrong with him."

"Well...I wanted your influence away from him.  I thought it would make him better.  He stopped speaking that language you taught him immediately after you left...he stopped speaking entirely, actually.  Didn't say a word to me for almost a year.  I thought it would be best to get him a normal male influence into his life - "

"Normal," Adam scoffed, rubbing his eyes.

" - so I started a relationship with someone that I thought would be a good example for him.  A good role model of how a man should be."

"And was he?"

"No," she said almost sheepishly, her face showing something shockingly close to shame.  "He wasn't quite who...who I thought he was.  He decided the best way to get Tommy to straighten up was to beat the attitude out of him.  By then I was already stuck, he..."

"Stuck.  So, no blame on you, right?  It was all him and you couldn't do anything about it, I'm guessing."

"Yes, actually."

There was a moment, just briefly, where a flicker of sympathy softened Pop's face.  "Did he beat you too?"  Diana looked at her hands, shaking her head slightly.

"Yes.  The children never saw it, I made sure of that.  But Tommy just got worse and worse, neither John or I could even get near him or Emma...he protected her so fiercely."

"Someone had to."

Everyone's eyes went to Tom;  it was the first thing he'd said in so long that I think we'd all sort of forgotten he was there.  Diana gave him a pleading look, sliding her hand on the table toward him.

"Tommy, honey, I tried."

He shook his head, not looking at her.  "No, you didn't.  You left us alone with him so much, you never knew what was going on.  You don't know what he did." 

She wasn't listening, it was obvious - I wanted to strangle her, to force her to just _hear_ him.  But she was too caught up in her own denial, slipping further and further into the unspoken claim that none of it was on her own head.  "You were just so violent, Tommy.  I was scared you were going to kill someone."

Tom looked sick, like he was about to throw up, but his eyes had something else in them - something panicky and scared.

"It was because of me?  Everything that happened to me and Emma...it was all my fault...?"

Adam reached for him but stopped just shy of touching him, like he knew better than to make physical contact while Tom was like this.  "Son, no - "

"But it's what she said, isn't it?  She was scared of me so she made you leave.  She thought you made me the way I was, so she got rid of you to fix me.  When you left is when _he_ came and that's when it all went to hell. _It was me.  I'm the reason!"_

Diana wasn't disagreeing, and it infuriated me, igniting an anger that I'd never even come close to feeling in all my life.   _She was letting him take the blame._  I couldn't imagine it, couldn't comprehend any of it...all I knew was that if the baby in my stomach was grown and sitting in front of me that close to crying and thinking she'd caused something horrible, even if it was true, I would be doing my damndest to make it better, even lying if I had to.  But she was just sitting there, looking at the table.  There was nothing in her face that Tom could draw comfort from, and I suddenly felt so sick that I had to stand up and walk over to the window.  Tom's breathing was quick and uneven and I knew something was about to happen.  He was on the edge of what was left of his self control and he was about to prove to his mom that she was right, he was too wild, too violent, too uncontrollable.  I put my head against the window and thought about praying to whoever or whatever for him to hold it together, just long enough for Pop to get that woman out of here.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Chris shooing everyone out, turning the closed sign on the door.  I turned around and looked Diana straight in the face. 

"You wrecked his life once.  You're not going to wreck it a second time."

Tom and Pop both looked at me, both of them raising an eyebrow.  Diana's eyes went wide and she opened her mouth like she was going to talk, but I cut her off - I knew she was just going to dispute the insinuation that she was to blame for any of it.  I'd heard enough of that from her, we all had.

"You weren't strong enough to do the right thing for your children and now you're letting your son take the blame for it.  Adam's right, I can tell just from this one conversation that you have an affinity for letting others take blame that belongs to you.  Do you know where Emma is?  Do you know what's wrong with her?"  I paused for a second to gauge her reaction, waiting to see if any remorse at all came to her eyes.  It didn't.  "I always thought that whole situation was just a really shitty lining up of the stars, but I go there every other Wednesday and listen to her tell stories that sound like fairytales but that are actually horror stories if you pay close attention.  And do you know what?  There's always more than one monster in them.  It's never just that asshole of a stepdad you decided would be a good father for those poor babies.  There's always a second villain, one that lets it all happen, that stands back in the shadows and watches and doesn't do anything to help.  I know who that is now."

Tom and Pop were both staring at me, but I didn't look at them.  My head felt dizzy and I was suddenly hot and really uncomfortable, but I had one more thing to say...I just hoped I could say it before I either passed out or threw up.  I could see Chris out of the corner of my eye, standing a few feet away, discreetly pretending to clear a table, offering the silent support and ready backup that he was famous for.  I took a deep breath and looked Diana square in the face.

"Get out of my pub, and get out of my husband's life.  Never come back to either one."

 

 

And just like that, it was over.  Possibly the worst chapter of Tom's life, closed and tossed out with the rest of the garbage, a book that was never going to be read again.  Chris locked the door behind her and went back to clearing tables while Tom got up and headed for the back.  I followed him into the office, ready to comfort him in whatever way he needed, not having any clue what to expect once the door shut behind us but prepared to deal with whatever it might possibly be.

"It wasn't your fault, Tom," I said as he sank down onto the sofa with a heavy sigh.  "You were a little kid.  She could have stopped it all and she didn't."

"I know."

"You...what?"

He was nodding, a slow grin coming across his face as he opened his arms to me.

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah."  His grin widened and he reached out to catch my hand, tugging me toward him;  I let him guide me onto his lap, his arms going around me to pull me close against him.  "I just wanted her to realize what an asshole she is.  Wanted to make her walk out of here too ashamed to ever come back.  I think you pretty well took care of that though."

I stared at him, searching for that heartbroken fear that had been in his eyes earlier.  I couldn't find it.  "You...you were faking?"

"Yeah."  He nuzzled the side of my face with his nose, finally peppering a few little kisses across my cheek.  "I needed to see what was in her heart.  I didn't count on finding out what was in _yours."_

 

 

_To be continued..._


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are several things in this chapter that are explained in much deeper detail in the Chemical prequel PENUMBRALUNA - which can be found here: 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6065182
> 
> If you haven't read it yet, I would highly recommend it for the detailed backstory...it's the story of Tom's life from age 15 to 21, from his arrival in San Diego through his acquisition of the pub and first encounter with Anja. There are also a series of prehistories (short stories told by each individual character in Chemical) that can be found here:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/416978

 

 

 

We went back out to the front after a little while, after he'd cuddled me and I'd kissed him and we sat for a bit just holding each other.  He wasn't shaken or upset like I'd thought he would be.  He was just...fine.

I didn't question it.  Tom had a way of being okay when he shouldn't be, and I didn't want to drag any of it back in front of him or make him realize that pretty much anyone else would be raging or breaking down in his position.  I touched his face and he grabbed my hand, pressing my palm flat against his cheek with his eyes closed, and in that moment while I listened to his steady breathing - not ragged or labored but _steady_ \- I knew.

_Nothing can break him.  
_  

 

"Pop, how did you wind up with such a racist bitch?"

Chris was sitting at the bar next to Tom's dad and they were drinking beers and eating nachos when we came out, just like nothing had happened.  I was thinking about how I had managed to align my life with this group of the most well adjusted people in existence when a loud outburst of cursing erupted from the kitchen in what one could only assume was either Scottish Gaelic or Martian gibberish - in either case, it was obvious our demented barman was having some sort of difficulty.  The two of them just looked at the swinging doors and went back to eating as Tom went into the kitchen to assess the damage and see if Ewan was still alive, probably smack him in the head while he was at it.

I wiggled onto a barstool by the taps;  it was getting hard to balance my suddenly front-heavy body on the tall stools, but I was too tired to go pull a regular chair from a table and realized the drama had worn me out.  Pop gave me a sweet smile and kept his eyes on me till I was safely settled before he put his bottle down and shrugged.

"I dunno, boy.  Mindboggling, isn't it?  Only excuse I got is that she was hot."

Chris nodded, laughing.  "Hot women flip our stupid switch, don't they?"

They laughed, glancing up at me when they heard me laughing along with them.  "It wasn't like that at the start though, you know?"  Pop paused for a second, watching Tom absently as he came out of the kitchen and rubbed my stomach as he walked by.  "At first she liked it, her whole perception of me being a little bit different.  All the earth sky nature stuff, she thought it was romantic.  I'm not really sure what happened, she just suddenly changed."  He motioned toward Tom.  "She was never the same after you were born.  I always sort of put it to...what do they call it now? - postpartum depression?  I thought maybe she had that because when you were born, she stopped being able to deal with stuff."  He took a long swig of his beer and set it down with a thud.  "Everything I did started bugging her."

Tom was behind me with his arms around my front, gently rubbing my belly with his chin resting on my shoulder.  "Are you sure it wasn't because her firstborn wasn't a perfect little copy of her side of the family?"

"Yeah, that might have been a little bit of it," Pop conceded with a sad shake of his head.  "She was always pissed that you had black hair.  Wanted all her babies to pass for pure 'white', which you definitely weren't.  Did you know you had dark skin when you were born?  Dark as mine."  He tugged his sleeve up, showing us the beautiful deeply tanned skin of his forearm to make his point.  I was shocked, for some reason, to see it was covered in tattoos.  He pulled his sleeve back down and scowled as he rebuttoned the cuff.  "On your first day of school she walked you to the corner and made you go the rest of the way by yourself.  I took you myself after that, but that made her freak out even worse - _everyone's going to think it's a scalping party,_ she said."   He shook his head, obviously disgusted.  "Yeah, she actually said that to me.  Bitch."

"Holy fuck, Pop."

"Yeah.  And then there was the baby that didn't make it."

"What?"  Tom let go of me and stood up straight;  his front was against my back and I could feel the sudden tension in his muscles.  Pop was nodding slowly, staring down at the beer bottle in his hand.

"You weren't our first, son.  There was a little girl a year before you.  We lost her about two weeks before her due date, something went wrong with her cord.  Diana had to deliver her the hard way.  And the little thing was perfect, you know?  Fully grown, ready to be born, just...didn't make it."  He looked at me like he was trying to figure out if he should continue or not, then sort of shrugged and looked away.  "They let us hold her for a little bit before they took her away.  She looked just like her mama, so pretty...yellow hair, light blue eyes, light skin.  Diana was devastated that we lost her.  So as soon as the docs said we could try again, we had another baby.  I think she thought we'd get the same one again, you know?  Or one like it."  His eyes came back to us again and there was a ghost of a smile in them.  "But out comes Tommy, and he's got dark skin and dark blue eyes and hair black as night, and tons of it - and he's squirming and squalling and kicking up a fuss.  I think Diana was shellshocked, to tell the truth.  She just never took to him.  Couldn't accept him.  He wasn't what she'd expected."

Nobody really knew what to say, so we all sat silent, staring at our hands or the bar or the floor.  Except Tom - Tom was staring at Pop, waiting for him to continue.  I knew he wanted more, he needed to hear it all, to understand why his mother could sit across the table from him and stare right through him with a fake smile and eyes that barely recognized him as hers.  I could feel his fingers squeezing my shoulders, a tiny bit harder than was comfortable, but I didn't stop him...it felt like he was using me to keep himself grounded and I wasn't about to take that away from him just because it hurt a little.  I reached up and put my hands on his.

"Now that I think about it, I wonder if that's not where her whole problem with you started.  Because she wanted a girl so bad, and she had one, a little perfect girl that was exactly what she hoped for.  And then she didn't get to keep her, and a year later we had you, and you were this wild little boy creature that wouldn't be still and wouldn't sleep and wouldn't be quiet.  I think she just...disassociated.  She went into this funk, had no interest in you, wouldn't feed you, wouldn't hold you.  I had to do it all."

His eyes came to me now and he started speaking as if Tom wasn't there, which struck me as odd, but I knew the whole thing was probably harder on him than anyone else, Tom included.  I gave him a little smile, trying to make it as reassuring as I could.

He stared at me for a moment and then pointed at Tom behind me.  "I think the poor little pup knew his mama had no feelings for him and he rebelled, just went wild.  He behaved for me but she couldn't control him.  So I spent every minute I could with him, because he had no mother.  So when she kicked me out...he was at her mercy.  I wasn't there to be a buffer between him and her."

Tom's voice was very quiet when he spoke.  "I didn't fit her ideal."

"No.  You looked too much like me.  And she already wasn't too fond of me by then."

Everyone fell silent, staring anywhere but at each other again, till finally Tom went over to the bottles and took down the top shelf whiskey.  He poured everyone a shot except me, reaching under the bar to get me a cream soda from the little fridge.  We all waited until everyone had a glass, then took a drink together.

"What the hell brought you two together, Pop?  I can't think of two people less suited for each other."

"Yeah...it wasn't always like that though.  She pursued me, can you believe that?  And she was such a pretty lady, I let her catch me without too much of a chase...she had this sassy wit that I liked, and something about the whole oppositeness of us, I dunno, I was drawn to her.  And I think she just thought I was handsome."  There was a devilish grin and I thought in that moment that I'd never seen him look more like the man standing behind me.  Tom laughed and held his glass up.

"You are."

"Damn straight I am."

We all drank in silence for a few minutes until Chris hopped up to shut off the outside lights and Ewan shuffled out of the kitchen to the office, leaving me and Pop and Tom alone.  I looked from one to the other, feeling kind of sick about how this woman had treated them both.  I just couldn't fathom it, how a mother could turn her back on her own baby or stop loving her husband because the novelty had faded from what had attracted her in the first place.  Tom was different... _very_ different from me, maybe more drastically even than Adam was from Diana...but I couldn't imagine getting tired of it or becoming ashamed of it the way she had.  All the things that were different about Tom were beautiful to me, even the things I didn't understand.

Maybe especially those.

I wanted to say something, but I couldn't think of a single word that would make anyone feel better.

 

Tom downed his whiskey and leaned against the bar, turning the glass around and around in his hand.  "My life ended up really good, Pop.  Once I got here, things got good."

Pop nodded like he knew, then slugged back his own whiskey.

"You've done alright, boy.  Look at all you've accomplished.  This place on its own would be impressive enough, but you've done more than just this.  You made a name for yourself.  And you built a family for yourself, too."  He motioned toward the back where Ewan and Chris were laughing about something.  "Those boys are better than brothers.  You've looked after Emma.  And you've got Anja and Cara and the baby."  He nodded toward me with a proud grin.  "I expected a lot from you, but even I'm impressed."

Tom laughed a little, rubbing his face like he was tired.  "I didn't get this place entirely on my own."

A jolt shot through my nervous system and I sucked in my breath, a little harder than was comfortable, and it choked me enough that I coughed violently for a second;  they both looked at me, but I shook my head and gave them a wave to let them know I was okay.  But I knew Tom was about to tell him about Alicia and I wasn't sure how I felt about that, so I wriggled down off my barstool and went into the kitchen to get some leftover spaghetti from dinner.

Once the door swung shut behind me I felt a little confused about why I'd left - the details about Alicia had never bothered me before, but suddenly all I could think about was her, pregnant with Tom's baby so far away from him, and how lonely she must have felt.  I didn't know anything about her home or family, if she had friends, if she had anyone to support her emotionally.  Cara had told us she had no memory of any men ever being in her mom's life when she was little.  It all seemed so sad to me, and I sat on an upside down bucket in front of the freezer for a while, rubbing my stomach and trying not to cry.

The baby started kicking hard enough to make me nauseous, but a bite of spaghetti settled her back down.   _You are definitely Tommy Heyworth's kid._  Just the thought of it made me smile and I struggled to my feet to rejoin them out front, my bowl of spaghetti balanced surprisingly well on the flat top of my stomach.  As soon as I stepped in, Tom nodded toward me with a big smile. 

"And the night I opened, I saw that girl right over there."

Pop winked at me.  "I can't help thinking you two are complete opposites - not like me and your mom though.  It's obvious you guys really love each other."

"Well, she's not with me because she thought I was handsome."

I snorted, bumping Tom in the back with my overgrown belly as I tried to squeeze past him.  The walkway behind the bar seemed to keep getting narrower by the day and he leaned forward to let me by.  "I _definitely_ didn't think he was handsome."

"She thought I was an asshole.  But as soon as I saw her I knew I was home."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  One of the elders in Sask told me that I'd know I was home when I saw it.  The second I laid eyes on this girl I felt it."  He reached out and pulled my hair back off my shoulder, smoothing it down my back.  "She was my home.  Unfortunately she belonged to someone else so I had to wait a while before I could get the keys."

I felt my heart going all soft and gooey.  He'd never told me that before.  I knew he'd liked me for a lot longer than I'd liked him, but this was way more than I would have ever guessed.  I didn't have to say anything though, because he and Pop kept talking like I wasn't there, even though he was rubbing my back and petting my hair like a cat while I ate my spaghetti.

"So you went to Sask, huh?"

"Yeah, talked to one of the elders.  Old Creek, do you remember him?  I was seventeen, learned a few things about myself."

"I remember Creek.  He tried so hard to convince me to stay, way back when.  Did he give you the rock?"

"Yep."

A big grin spread across Pop's face.  "What did you do with it?"

"See Anja's left hand?"

I held my hand up and looked at my hammered silver wedding ring and the wide bonding band on my thumb.  I had no idea what rock they were talking about, but I'd always wondered where my rings came from.

"Awesome," Pop said, his grin getting even wider.  "I hoped you would do something cool with it.  It's been a damn rock for too long."

Chris and Ewan came out of the back just then and Ewan came straight for me, pretending like he was playing bongos on my stomach while I ate and tried to ignore him.  "So Pop, are you going to do the delivery?" he asked, pulling Tom's drumsticks out from under the bar;  Tom snatched them out of his hand before he could start and gave him a warning look, tucking them safely into his own back pocket.

"Oh hell no, what's the matter with you boy?  I'm a lawyer not a medicine man, I don't know anything about birthing babies."  He shot Ewan an annoyed look, but there was a good natured grin in his eyes and it was obvious he didn't take any offense.  "I wasn't raised in a teepee any more than you walk around in kilts playing bagpipes."

I about choked on my spaghetti.  "He _does_ walk around in kilts.  You should see our wedding pictures."

Chris punched Ewan in the back of the head.  "You're an idiot."

"What?"

They started pushing each other around so I moved out of the way, heading back to the kitchen to put my bowl away.

"Oh Anja, wait a sec - "  Pop reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it out to me.  "We have the same one, I picked yours up off the bar yesterday thinking it was mine."

I took it, surprised that I hadn't even missed it.

"You got a call from your friend Kady, I answered it...that's when I realized it was your phone.  Sorry about that."

"Oh, no problem.  Hope she didn't yammer you to death, she's a talker."

He laughed, nodding in agreement as I ducked into the kitchen.  I checked the time of the call to see if it was too late to call her back - it took me a minute to do the time zone math in my head - and noticed that the call duration was forty-seven minutes.

I glanced back at Pop through the swinging door, a little confused, but he was deep in conversation with Tom and I didn't want to interrupt them.

 

 

I washed a few dishes and put some things away that Ewan had left out - we loved him to death but he tended to be lazy when he got tired, and I often picked up behind him to keep Tom from getting on him.  The stress of realizing he was about to become a father was weighing a bit heavy on him lately and he was having little bouts of bad temper here and there.  I spent a lot of time running interference between him and the guys, him and the delivery people, even him and Cara from time to time...and I kept catching him smoking, which he never did unless he was _really_ worried about something.  His last checkup on his lungs hadn't been great so I'd instructed Chris and Ewan to keep an eye on him when I wasn't around, and their constantly ratting him out wasn't exactly putting him in a better mood.

I knew what his problem was.  He'd grown up without a proper father figure, once Adam was booted out of his life.  He'd had his abusive stepfather and then a series of bad foster parents - and literally no one to look to as an example of good parenting.  The closest was Meredith, but he was already mostly grown by the time she came into his life.

He wasn't sure he knew how to do this.

I hung my towel over the sink and sighed, wondering what sort of mood he would be in after tonight's events.  His mother had emotionally disowned him, sitting right in front of him, looking him straight in the face as she told him everything was his fault.  His dad had thrown out a major reveal about an older sibling that died and the fact that he'd been a replacement that didn't fill the void.  He'd had to face up to the fact that he hadn't been wanted by one of his parents because he wasn't what had been expected.  It was a lot, and none of it was good.

Adding it to his already heavy burden of self doubt was just a cruel twist that he didn't even come close to deserving.

 

I couldn't have blamed him if he was angry, or if he wanted to just go home and not talk.  Whatever he needed, I would do my best to give him...it was all I could do, but it was usually enough.  Pushing the kitchen door open, I saw that everyone was up and moving around, and Tom was at the front putting on his jacket.  He spotted me and jerked his head toward the door.

"Come on babe, lets head home."

I looked at him and realized that he wasn't angry, and he didn't look at all like he didn't want to talk.  In fact, he looked to be in a better frame of mind than I'd seen him in weeks.

"You kids want a ride?" Pop asked as he fished his ringing phone out of his pocket.  Tom shook his head, taking my coat off the rack by the door as he tossed his keys to Chris.

"Naw, she needs the walk.  We're trying to kick her labor into gear."

I grimaced and Chris laughed, but Tom was looking at me _that way,_ his oddly colored eyes sweeping over me like they were removing my clothing one slow piece at a time, and the walk home suddenly seemed so much longer than just a few blocks.  He stood at the door with my coat, shaking it to hurry me.  I glanced over at Pop but he was already on his phone, a wide smile breaking across his face as he greeted whoever had just called him.

"Come on girly," Tom growled, kicking the door open behind him.  "Lets get that baby put to bed."

I knew that wasn't what he meant at all.

 

 

We were barely inside the house when his hands slid down to my butt, long fingers slipping up between my legs to rub me through the ridiculous maternity jeans that he swore made him hot.  I had the sneaking suspicion the reason he was turned on by them was because they were so easy to get me out of - the zipper and button were strictly for decoration, the wide stretchy band at the top the only thing really keeping them up.  He could give them a quick tug and have them around my knees in less than a second.

"Come on bitch pudding, take me to bed, let me aggravate that pup so bad she comes out just to tell me to fuck off."

I felt like I should be squicked, but honestly, I was so ready - the doctor had taken my cervical ring off earlier in the week and told me to walk a lot, have sex as much as I could, eat spicy food, anything to get things going.  I'd been having mild labor that stopped and started so much I'd taken to completely ignoring it.  No seizures.  No real discomfort other than my belly being too big for my body.  According to the calendar it was time, and all my checkups had been good.  We had a perfect midwife on call and she'd checked me three days prior and told us with a conspiratorial wink that it was time to start irritating my cervix.

And Tom was holding his hand out, already three steps up the stairs, wiggling his fingers to get me to come with him.

I felt a little bit excited when he reached down impatiently and grabbed my hand.

"I said come on.  Don't make me have to spank you."

My face went a bit hot with the realization that after all this time, a spanking was still so high on my list of things that could get me instantly wet.

"You wouldn't dare."

He dragged me up the stairs behind him, obviously out of patience with my time wasting and slow cooperation.

_"Try me."_

I giggled, but there wasn't the slightest bit of playfulness in his face as he kicked the bedroom door open, slapping me on the ass as he swung me into the room ahead of him.

 

 

The mechanics of the situation are murky, but it seemed like only seconds between him flipping on the light and me being on my hands and knees on the bed, stripped naked, with him pulling my arms around behind me.

"Remember this?" he asked, pure devilry in his voice as he laid my hands on the small of my back, crossing my arms at the wrist while his other hand slid slowly, hotly up my spine to the back of my neck.  It brought back all kinds of memories of our first few times together and I nodded, squirming around to get comfortable;  with my arms back, my weight was being supported on my chest and shoulders, but he'd had the presence of mind to put a pillow down for me before he'd pushed me into position.  He divested himself quickly of his jeans and shirt and laid his cock on my bottom...and once again, as always, I found myself in awe of how heavy it was, how much heat it radiated.

_How can he walk around with that between his legs?_  

My hands were right there, so I moved one back till I felt him, all stiff and hard and already oozing with slick moisture.  He tapped my fingers out of the way while he slid the condom on.  "Are you wet, baby girl?"

"I think so," I fibbed.  I knew I was, I could feel it dribbling slowly down the inside of my thigh.  It tickled.  He dropped one hand down between my legs and wetted his fingers in it.

"I'd say so."

My mouth was open to say something in response when his hand suddenly landed on my left buttcheek, hard enough to turn my forgotten comment into a squeaking yelp.

 

 

When he pulled me up off my chest by my arms, I felt a little rush of panic - but my front-heaviness provided a perfect counterbalance, and as he started to push into me from behind, the forward motion was countered by him pulling back with his hands wrapped around the bend of my elbows.  It was surprisingly comfortable and I just let him rock me like that, enjoying the friction of him thrusting in as he pulled me back, pulling out as my stomach swayed me forward.  Up till that moment I'd been worried that he might be unpredictable because of the intense evening he'd just suffered through, but as he spoke quietly to me I knew there wasn't a thing in the world to worry about.  This was Tom, the man that loved me, and he wouldn't do anything, ever to hurt either me or the baby.

But I knew he was as aware as I was about what my doctor had told us.

_Make it count.  Now's the time to turn loose all that pent up excitement and repressed vigor.  Remember that touchy cervix you've been so careful to avoid bumping?  Forget all that._

And as our delightfully colorful midwife had told us: _Time to storm the castle gate, kiddies._

Tom pulled me back by my arms, my bottom meeting his groin roughly, that deliciously heavy cock sliding in far enough to give the gate a good solid bang.  I braced myself, inching my knees further apart so that he couldn't knock me off balance.

"Can you take it, baby?"

I bit my tongue hard, knowing he needed a verbal approval but too addled for the moment to provide it properly.  "Uh huh."

He slid in again, pulling me back by my elbows.  "Is that a yes?"

_"Yes."_

 

I heard a cry burst out of my throat when he quickened the pace, slamming hard into me...we'd spent so many weeks having gentle, careful, slightly nervous sex that this return to roughness was shockingly exhilarating and I threw my head back, groaning loudly when he let go of one arm and grabbed my hair.  I braced myself with my hands on the bed when he released me and felt him crouch over me, his knees planted at the outsides of mine, his hands now on top of my own with our fingers entwining, his chest against my back and his mouth breathing hotly into my ear.  I wished I could see us...we must have looked like animals, mating insanely, all hunger and thirst and completely driven by the need to quench both.  The noises coming from me were loud and nearly unrecognizable as human and the thought crossed my mind, just briefly, that we hadn't even checked to see if Cara was in the house.

_Too late to worry about that now._

He already had me worked up, with one hand up under me, long fingers stroking me quickly and skillfully - I felt that final moment of slow rising build, that jangling sort of electrical pulse that pushes you into the last wave of heightened arousal just before you peak and crash, when mind numbing pleasure completely wipes out all conscious thought and there's just you and that intense, painful delight that slips slowly away, letting you fall in slow motion back to awareness...it left me gasping with a heaving chest, my hands clutching at the sheets, thighs shaking uncontrollably.  Tom felt it and moved off my back, resuming his position on his knees behind me for his own final thrusts to take him to the same place I'd just been.  I rested my head on the mattress and panted deeply, waiting for him to finish when I felt a steady trickle run down my leg.  It suddenly became a wet gush that I couldn't control.

I knew it couldn't be Tom, he was wearing a condom...I reached back and grabbed his hand, begging him breathlessly to stop.

"Please, quit for a second.  I think I peed myself."

There was a low chuckle from behind me and I felt his hand slide down my leg where the wetness had run all the way down to my knee.

"No, you didn't."

"How do you know?"  I swatted at him, trying to get up on my shaky knees.

"Because I saw where it came from."

"What?"  I finally resorted to gracelessly falling over onto my side just as he lifted my leg, burying his face in my crotch.  I tried to squirm away as he pushed his tongue into me, but he held me still with a firm grip on my thighs before pulling his head up and grinning at me.

"Tastes sweet.  It's amniotic fluid."

"What?!"

The grin widened and he lowered my leg gently, moving up to lay down next to me, his mouth nuzzled warmly against my shoulder as he laid his arm across my breasts.  There was a sudden tenderness in his touch, a complete about-face from just a moment ago when he was being so dominant and forceful.

"We broke your water," he said quietly.  There was a bit of a laugh in his voice and when I looked at him in shock, he was grinning like the devil had just torn up his contract.

 

 

_To be continued..._  


	54. Chapter 54

 

 

 

 

They say all lives boil down to one singular moment that defines them and determines whether a person's existence has contributed anything to the universe, whether it be good or bad or indifferent.  I don't know if I believe it's just one moment so much as a series of moments, all ultimately condensing to reveal the truth of a soul's worthiness.

Worthiness of what, I have no clue.  But it sounds kinda cool, so I'm good with it.

There are just a few things I know, and one of them is this. 

The little red haired girl, the love of my life, the prize I won purely by default, gifted me with a validation of my own life.  Proof that I exist, that I matter somewhere in the universal scheme of things, that my presence in this world is for a reason.  There's a place for me.  And I know where it is.  It's not just a general location, here in southern California, or even a metaphysical space, in the hearts of the people I love.  It is a very specific niche, a place both physical and intangible - in the curve of Anja's back, against the slope of her shoulder, in the crook of her neck, in the warm breath of her lungs.  I live in the pause between her heartbeats.  I inhabit the space she exists in without crowding her out of it.  I am her ghost.  My existence is more rumor than fact, the only thing that gives me any real corporeal substance is my connection to this girl, and without her I would be nothing more than shadow and lies.

I owe her what I am on this day.  She gave me _this,_ this new title, this new job, this new facet to my life.

But more than that.  She gave my life a _purpose,_ an excuse to keep on living, a blinding realization that there is a reason for me.  I was born for a specific thing, and this is it.

I know who I am.  I know what I am.  And I know why.

 

Alicia had begun this process to an extent, quite by accident, by giving me Cara.  Now it was up to Anja to finish it and make it official.  But this time...this time was different.  This time I was _there._  This time I knew my child was coming into the world and I was _in_ there, up to my elbows in the joy and mess and quiet delirium of it all.  This time I experienced life through the soul of a new being, and in her newly awakened eyes I saw my reflection.

I'm Tommy Heyworth, I'm thirty-one years old, and this moment, this fleeting bit of time, as I hold my squirming wet little baby in my hands is _the_ single most important moment in my life.  In this moment I know who I am and why I'm here.  Any delusion I had before this about meaning something in the world is just bullshit.  This - this little person that Anja and I made from our love and our dedication and our passionate bonding - this is it.

Nothing else has _ever_ mattered, no matter how much I believed it did.

 

 

It was a bit ironic that Anja became a mother so soon after my own mother walked out of my life forever.  It was where she needed to be, no doubt...away from me, away from the disappointment of what had been her life when we inhabited the same space.  I was a bitter reminder of how things hadn't gone according to plan for her, that dreams and realities often bear no resemblance to one another.  There was no room for us together and we finally knew it, so I was surprisingly okay with watching her leave the pub and my little realm of existence.  I'd built my own family, peopled it with souls that I trusted and loved, people I hand picked based on my experiences with them.  People who I knew would be loyal to me to the end.  People I would be loyal to, forever.  People I found and who found me, and even a couple that I created myself.

And so the final straggly remnants of my past strolled out the door, and I shut the door behind it.

 

On this side of that closed door sat my father, my brothers, my wife and children, both born and unborn.  My sister, apart from me but still held close.  Friends and lovers and blood relations, all filling every last empty space that had ever ached to be filled.  There was nothing missing anymore.  Nothing.

Except, maybe, this.

My baby girl is so small I can hold her in one hand, but I hold her carefully with both, because my heart is swollen to bursting and she fills it entirely...and so I think my eyes must fool me, and that she is huge.

 

 

The night my mother left my life I took my wife home and made love to her with a sort of reckless abandon that, in retrospect, may have been a bit on the extreme side - but nothing between she and I has ever been mundane or safe.  Anja ignites something inside me, she is both my lighter and my match...the quick easy flare of fuel-fed flame and the slow burn of a messy sparking strike on the side of a pocket-crushed box.  We veer back and forth between the two, a dizzying conflagration of heat that warms as much as it burns.

We burned that night.  I would make a crude joke about water extinguishing flame, but the truth is that I was sorely tested when it came to stopping.  Every aspect of Anja's pregnancy has been intensely erotic to me, and the raw messy side of the last nine months has kept me on the edge of constant arousal and an overwhelming sexual attraction to my beautiful little wife.  I've wanted to be involved in every bit of it, from putting in her cervical cap to rubbing cocoa butter on the stretched out undercurve of her overgrown belly to toughening her nipples for breastfeeding by biting them every chance I got.  The whole thing has been one big round of sex for me, and though I'm not entirely sure Anja has always felt the same, I can say with all certainty that this has been a banner year for me as far as erections go.

But it was time to bring it all to a climax, so to speak.  I was going to miss it, but we were finally going to meet Layla, our little long awaited pup.

Our midwife had been urging us to get things moving for Anja's sake, as her little body was tired of the stress of carrying around what promised to be a fairly large baby, and I could see the physical and emotional toll it was all taking on her.

We both needed some stress relief, and so we took it.

And Anja's water broke, and Tommy Heyworth, who never thought he'd live past fifteen, became a father for the second time.

 

 

The look on Anja's face when her water broke was something in between disbelief and panic, followed quickly by anger.  She was freaked out by the amount of fluid trickling down her legs and the fact that I was laughing struck her so very wrong.  Add to that the fact that I gleefully dipped my tongue into her to taste it and you can probably correctly surmise her general mindset in the moments immediately following.  She was up on her knees on the bed, staring down at the rapidly forming puddle between them, and looked up at me with a scowl before hissing at me to shut up.

I, of course, didn't.  I kept laughing, though I did get up off the bed and put my pants back on.  She just kept staring down at her knees with her mouth open like she couldn't comprehend what was going on, like someone was playing a joke on her, like it couldn't be happening, not like this.  I knew what she was thinking.  We'd been having sex and she had just come.  She was going to have to tell our midwife about it.

Polite, decent, well mannered, ladylike little Anja had just kickstarted her labor with rowdy sex, on her hands and knees like an animal, and she was going to have to own up to it.  I laughed so hard my chest hurt.  I was dialing Carol's number when she suddenly got her wits back about her and shot me a murderous look to end all murderous looks.

_"Don't you dare tell her!"_

"Anja, she's going to figure it out."

"I don't care!"  She was crawling to the edge of the bed and took a slap at me.  "Stop laughing, it's not funny."

"It _is_ funny."  Carol answered and I told her the news while Anja pointed threateningly at me, mouthing _don't do it_ while I tried my best not to laugh into the phone.  Things were getting started and I was so excited my hands were shaking, and Carol, bless her, asked outright if we'd been fucking.

 

 

The preliminary stage of Anja's labor was long and slow and I was just getting on her nerves far more than she needed me to, so in the morning when she hadn't progressed much, I put her on the sofa with the TV remote and her cellphone and went down to the pub to work for a while.  I mentioned to Chris when he asked how she was doing that she'd gone into labor the night before, and someone sitting at the bar overheard and made a fuss about it, congratulating me and offering to buy us all drinks even though it was ten in the morning.  Ewan got involved and things got noisy for a little while, till I sneaked out the back to call home and check on her.  Cara was going to be in and out all day, looking in on things for me, and Carol would be coming at noon to check Anja's progress and make sure it was all going well.

Nothing was left to chance - this was my Girly, I wasn't about to risk her for the world.  She hadn't had a seizure in months despite being off her medications for the duration of the pregnancy, but I knew the stress of labor could set her off unexpectedly.   I could be home from the pub on foot in just about four minutes at top speed - I know because I timed it - but that didn't mean she would be in any condition to be able to call me if something happened.  So I called her every twenty minutes or so, and when she crankily told me to stop calling, I sent Ewan down to the house instead.

The second time he came back, he was very pink cheeked and excited, and told me in that rushed Scottish brogue of his that I should probably think about going home.

I didn't stick around long enough to even ask him why.

 

 

When I got there I had a moment of panic when I couldn't immediately locate her - she wasn't on the sofa where I'd left her, but after a quick survey of every room I found her standing in the shower, leaning on her hands against the wall with her head down, sort of gasping and not really noticing I was there until I reached out to pull her hair back out of her face.  She was naked and I could see the sides of her belly contracting.

"Baby, are you okay?"

She looked up at me like she'd just realized it was me, and I saw the most incredible excited light in her eyes.

"Yeah.  I got all sweaty and wanted a quick shower."  She held her hands out to me and I helped her step out of the tub, wrapping her up in a towel and grabbing another one to dry her hair with.  "I couldn't get out once I got in."

I had my hands on both sides of her stomach as I followed closely behind her toward the bedroom, and I could feel her muscles tightening rapidly.

"Shall I call Carol?"

She thought about it for a moment, her face scrunched up for several seconds in a grimace of what looked like some pretty serious discomfort.  When it was over, she nodded decidedly.

"Yeah, call Carol."

 

 

"Stage one!!"

Our midwife Carol was a theatrical woman, early fifties, lovely and loud and very very British.  She harassed me about my accent constantly, complaining that I'd been so bastardized by my years here in the States that I was an embarrassment to listen to.  But she was excellent at her job and Anja felt comfortable with her, so I let her give me a hard time all she wanted.  I'd called her the moment I'd gotten Anja dressed and back to the sofa again, and within the hour our front door flew open and there she stood with her arms out dramatically, announcing the first stage of labor had officially begun.

We knew that, but it was fun letting her bark orders and announce everything in her big brash voice.  It made us feel safe, somehow.  I knew I was going to do the actual delivering when the time came, but having her there at various stages during the labor gave me the confidence that came with knowing that everything was going right, that things were exactly as they should be, that the odds were very much stacked in our favor and against any surprises.

I'd had quite enough surprises in my life, I wanted this to go quietly, according to plan, and without anything unexpected.

"Get me a Scotch and a pair of salad tongs, we're going to do this up right!" Carol ordered me as she and Anja moved to the bedroom for a quick examination.  She almost always let me stay in the room when she checked her, but obviously she wanted me out of the way this time.  "I'm kidding, just the Scotch.  A double."

I had no idea if she was joking or not, so I made her a double Scotch and waited outside the bedroom door until I heard them laughing before I took it in.

"Oh goodness, what a good boy.  Is that top shelf?  Because I don't get out of bed in the morning for anything less than Laphroig."

"Sorry, Glenlivit."

"Ah, well, it'll do."  She took the glass from my hand and downed a long swallow, then handed it back.  "Okay, now that I'm up, lets discuss what's likely to happen today, shall we?"

 

 

Carol sat with Anja for a bit, making sure she remembered how to do her breathing and relaxing, quizzing me about when I was to coach her to push and when to wait and at what point to bugger off and let her do her thing however she saw fit.  And in the end, she gave me a gentle smile and a stinging slap on the arm and told me, "It will happen whether you remember your bit or not, just smile when she calls you a cocksucker, tell her you love her, and grab the baby when you see it."

And with that, she left us to it.

And that is pretty much how it went, to my recollection.

 

 

It's said it takes a village to raise a child, but apparently it takes just about that many to birth one as well.  Or so the village seems to think.  Every time I went back to the pub to get out of Anja's way, someone else would trot down to the house to say hi to her.  When I got booted for the second time, Chris grabbed a bag of ice from the freezer, slung it over his shoulder with a wink, and headed down the street with his peace offering.  He came back minus the ice and tagged Eva, who took Anja a big therapy ball that she borrowed from the school she worked at.  Pop even went down for a bit.  And when it was my turn again, I threw my keys to Chris and told him I'd be back tomorrow, and that was the last anyone saw of me until I staggered back in the next day, an exhausted but strangely elated new thing.   _A father._

 

 

Stage two woke Anja from a nap and when I checked her, she was heavily dilated.  We were both oddly calm for some reason, and when I kissed her forehead she turned her face up to me and asked me if I was ready.

 _Ready for what?_   was on the tip of my tongue, but when I looked into her china blue eyes I knew it wasn't really a question and it definitely wasn't about any specific moment that was coming.  We had gone through so many stages in our life together, from antagonistic associates to tolerant friends to crazed lovers to devoted soulmates - and now, finally, quietly excited expectant parents.  I laid my hand on her belly and felt the baby squirming around, silently protesting against the strong contractions that were beginning to interfere with her nap.  Ready for what?

_All of it._

I nodded and kissed her again.

Yeah, I was ready.  I'd never been more ready for anything in my life.

 

 

There's a lot of screaming and yelling and panting that goes on in the movies when a baby is being born, and in truth that was what I thought I should expect.  But the reality of it was much quieter and more serene, much less panicked and far more relaxed and accepting, and thankfully far less noisy.  It mostly consisted of Anja washing the dishes in between contractions, getting down on her hands and knees to breathe through them, listening and paying attention to what her body told her to do and just doing it, quietly and calmly.  I read a book, watched TV, sent Cara IMs with her progress reports until she finished her classes and came home.  I rubbed her back and massaged her hips and talked to her when the pain got intense.  And through it all, Anja never raised her voice, never complained, never cried or lost her composure for even a moment.  The determination in her face as she took it like a trooper was both difficult and amazing to watch.  She _owned_ this event and she worked her way through it, rocking and breathing and walking until finally she went up to our bedroom and squatted down beside the bed, resting her head on the mattress.  I had followed her up, close behind but letting her do it herself, and when I entered the bedroom a few seconds after her and saw what she was doing, I knew this was it.  I knelt down behind her and pushed my knees up under the backs of her thighs to support her, caging her in with my arms on both sides of her to help her keep her balance.  She was holding her breath and pushing, and as I reached one hand under her to check her progress, I felt the top of the baby's head bulging out.

 _"That's it girly,"_   I whispered, kissing her shoulder as I held her.   _"You're doing it."_

It didn't take long once she started pushing, maybe ten minutes, before I felt the head slipping out.  I could hear Cara going down the hall to her room and called for her to come in and get us some towels, and once they were laid out under us and the baby's blanket was spread out on the bed, she tugged my hair back and tied it before leaving us to it.

The baby's head was in my hand and I told Anja it was time to push hard now.  And like the good girl she's always been, she obeyed me.

 

 

Pressed up against her the way I was, with her back to my front and my arms around and under her, I could feel the tremendous effort it took for her to do that final push.  Her entire body was tensed to the breaking point and she was trembling uncontrollably, but she never made a sound except for her breathing and a sharp little cry when I turned the baby's shoulders to get them past her pelvic bones.

And just like that, Layla Jane Heyworth was in my hands.

And the runaway half Cree boy who had stared up at the night sky wondering where he belonged in the universe stumbled ass backwards into the spot the universe had saved for him.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	55. Chapter 55

 

 

 

 

I stood in the shower washing all the sweat and sticky stuff off me, my legs still trembling from the brutal physical stress of pushing a baby into the world and my head a bit woozy from the strain of it all.  But there was an overwhelming sense of both relief and happiness that was keeping me from being too tired to function, a low key excitement, like when you get a new gadget and can't wait to play with it, see what it does, figure out how it works.  Tom was sitting on the closed toilet lid watching me and holding the baby, our pup, naked against his bare chest.  She'd had a little bit of congestion even after we cleared the mucous from her nose and throat, so while we waited for Carol to come back and check her over, he was letting her breathe the warm steamy air from my shower and bouncing her gently to help break it up.

She was a funny little thing, so cute but immensely irritated looking, like a doll that wasn't happy about suddenly finding itself sentient.  Tom bonded with her immediately...I knew he would, he'd waited so long for something in his life that was irrefutably _his,_ and here she was, falling into his hands and being swaddled against his chest before she even took her first true breath while I collapsed against the side of the bed and just laid there panting.  By the time I'd caught my breath he'd already made eye contact with her, told her her name, and was doing skin to skin with her to get her temperature and heart rate normalized.

It was no surprise.  They say a daddy is born the same day as his children, but Tom had been a daddy since the day we found out I was pregnant.  He'd been dad to Cara for almost two years already, but that was different - he hadn't raised her, seen her born, spent her childhood with her.  He'd been a part of _this_ baby's life from day one, when I handed him the grainy ultrasound picture of a little jellybean looking thing and he'd stuck it on the pub bulletin board and called everyone out of the kitchen to look at it.

The job was already his.  This was just the day he took on the duties that came with it.

 

Carol looked Layla and I over, checked our heart rates and temperature and declared us both good.  The little breathing issue was already better and she patted Tom on the head for thinking of the steamy bathroom as a quick remedy.  He had put me into the shower to push out the afterbirth before he clamped and cut the cord, and once Carol had checked the placenta and examined me, she threw her hands up and proclaimed it time for another scotch.

And that was our first day as something new.  We were parents now, no longer just two people who'd happened upon a teenager and suddenly had a pre-made family unit.  We'd honestly done something with our love for each other.  We'd _made something_ out of it.  And as Tom brought Layla to me after I'd settled in on the bed to feed her, I knew, really _knew_ , that this was the life I was supposed to have.  Sam had been the detour, not Tom.  And though I'd loved Sam and a quiet little part of me always would, I knew now that he'd really only been in my life to bring me to Tom. 

 

 

"They say the way you shake your creamer is the same way you pull your dick.  Isn't that right son?"

I glanced over at Tommy, frantically shaking a bottle of CoffeeMate like an Australian park ranger trying to throw off a rabid badger.  He wasn't paying attention to the conversation, lost in his own head for the last two days since the pup was born.

"What?"

He popped the bottle open and it spewed, spitting creamer across the front of his shirt and setting us all to giggling like immature idiots at the perfectly timed visual.

"Never mind."

Chris and Ewan were laughing and it was obvious Ewan was trying his best not to say anything, but a bottle of Pale Ale to the side of the head earlier in the day had effectively shut down his smart mouth and possibly part of his brain.  Nobody's really sure who threw it, but we were all grateful because Tommy had had enough and if there's one thing we all know around here, it's that you back away slowly once he hits that point.  He'd been clenching and unclenching his fists all day and I could tell by the resigned look on Chris's face that he was fully aware he was gonna end up going a few rounds in the alley with him before the afternoon was up.

I'd grown to consider Chris my second son, so I did my best to save him the trouble by distracting Tommy as much as I could.  "How's Anja doing?"

The pained look on Tom's face was more than enough of an answer.

"She's good."

I wasn't sure I believed him, but I wasn't about to dispute him.  "Good, I'm glad.  I'll come by later this evening and watch the baby for a bit if you two need some, you know, grownup alone time."

The two blonde boys exchanged a look and vacated.  It's never failed to amaze and amuse me how tuned in Tommy's friends are to his moods and how quickly they scatter when he gets that dark look.  He didn't seem to notice them or their sudden absence, just kept doing what he was doing, till finally he turned his back to me and shot me a stare in the mirror behind the bottles.

"Pop, you were around when we were born, right?  I mean you didn't leave on some spirit hunt or whatever while mom did the new mother stuff, did you?"

I wasn't sure how to answer this - it was unclear if he was hoping I would back him up on something he thought or disagree with something Anja had said, and I had no idea which side of any potential argument either of them would be on.  I sat staring at him for a minute until that lost look came over his face and I knew I had to come up with something.

"I gave your mom her space, but I stayed close."  I reached out and smacked him in the side of the head when he bent over to get something from under the bar.  "Spirit hunt?  You picking up Ewan's culturally illiterate bullshit now?"

He came around and sat down next to me, suddenly leaning forward to slam his forehead into the bar a few times.  When he stopped there was a big red knot above his left eye.

"Christ alfuckingmighty son, is it that bad?"

"I'm going nuts, Pop.  I know she needs time and I've got to be patient, but this is killing me - "

"Wait, wait a sec there cub...are you telling me all this is about sex?"

He groaned, rubbing the bump on his head.

"Well shit.  She just had a baby two days ago you big slut, leave the girl alone."

"But Pop - "

"No buts, you let that girl be.  She'll come around when she's ready, until then you just shake your creamer bottle and back the hell off of her."  He wasn't looking at me so I snapped my fingers in front of his face to get his attention.  "You hear me, boy?"

"But she's got the - "  He made an exaggerated boob gesture in front of his chest " - and she's all - "  

I slapped his hands down;  he was making shapes in the air like hips and lady curves and he had that dumbass blank look fourteen year old boys get when they see their first gentleman's club billboard.  Funny how a newly curvaceous wife can turn a man into a slathering idiot.  But Anja had always been shapely, so all I could guess was that day two of breastfeeding the pup had ballooned her up good and proper in all the right places.  And Tommy, the most got-it-together fellow that I'd ever met, was suddenly the most messed up one of the bunch.

It was almost sad, if it hadn't been so damn funny.

"Yep, and you can't touch any of it till she's ready to share.  It'll hurt, but you'll survive, boy."  I gave him a pat on the back and slugged back the last of my beer.  Much as I loved my boy and wanted to find a way to help him feel better, a stress-relieving fistfight in the alley wasn't on my evening itinerary.

I had a phone call to make. 

 

 

"Adam Blackdog Heyworth, fancy meeting you here."

My lady's pretty face popped up on my phone screen.  "Hey girl."

"Are you at home?"

"I am."  I settled in on my sofa, feet up on the coffee table, suddenly tired but ready to listen to her sweet voice boss me around for the next half hour.  It had been a long damn time since I'd wanted to listen to a woman yammer at me till I fell asleep.

"How are things there?  Everybody doing okay?  How's Anja and the baby?"

I had to laugh when I thought about my son sitting at the bar with that lost, frustrated look on his face, lamenting his wife's tits and whining over losing right of first bite to the newling.

"Tommy's been better.  Shellshocked I think.  Anja's okay but I gotta tell ya, that pup is something.  Looks like a little doll."

"Of course she does, look at her parents, they're fucking _gods_ or something."  I laughed, watching her settle in on her bed three thousand miles away.  "And that daddy of hers gets all his looks from _his_ daddy...who is, I might add, the handsomest old man I've ever laid eyes on."

"Laid being the operative word here."

It was her turn to laugh;  and as I watched her get undressed I realized it was going to be time soon to tell everyone about us.  I wasn't sure how it was going to go over with Tommy and Anja, but in a few days she would be coming back to the states to be with me and even Ewan couldn't be counted on to miss something that obvious.

But I wasn't all that concerned, honestly.  I hoped everyone would be happy with it, but I'd figured out a long time ago that happiness is relative and often a learned thing - I thought the birth of my kids was the happiest I'd ever been, then I realized that finding them again twenty years after losing them had it beat.  Becoming a grandfather upped the bid.  And now having someone in my life who cared more about me than they did about themselves came awful damn close to matching it all.  Everything is completely dependent on what came before it.

Old Blackdog had wandered a long way from where he'd started, but by god he was finally home again.

I watched my lady fluff up the pillows and turn to me with a smile as she snuggled down under the blankets.  I touched the screen with my finger, wondering what her skin felt like.

"Sing me that song again, Adam."

I couldn't remember all the words, it had been so long...but she never seemed to care, and the words were in Cree anyway so I could be making shit up and she'd never know.  But the parts that I did make up were all about how she made me feel, and by the contented smile on her face I could tell her heart understood the half dead language that I'd nearly forgotten.

 

 

"Hey Pop, can Cara sleep over at your place tonight?"

The look Pop gave me told me instantly that he knew exactly what was going on.  Sly old dog, nothing ever got past him and I felt my cheeks getting hot as he grinned and gave me a conspiratorial wink.  But true to his nature and to his immense credit, he kept his comments to himself and gave me a polite nod.  Pop never treated me with anything less than pure respect.

"Sure."  He fiddled with his bottle for a second, his dark eyes burning into the back of my head while I tried really hard not to look at him.  Tom was home with the baby so I could have an hour or so out of the house, and of all the places I could have gone, I found myself mixing drinks for the afternoon crowd at the pub.  Maybe it was new mom jitters, but I couldn't bring myself to go any further than that from Layla even though I knew Tom was far more competent than I was at taking care of her.

But in all honesty, it was him that I needed to get away from.

Because ever since my milk had come in, he'd had this crazy, hungry look in his eyes, and suddenly our house wasn't big enough for us to move around in without him rubbing up against me or bumping into my backside every time I tried to get past him.  Those long arms of his could reach me no matter where I went and I hadn't had more than a few minutes alone since Carol left without him either wanting to hold me or kiss me or outright grind himself on me.  And that look was killing me.

I knew what that look was.  And he wasn't looking at my eyes.  I was suddenly a great big walking pair of boobs to him and the baby both, and I knew I was going to have to do something to calm him down soon.  He hadn't had any sex in five days and it wasn't suiting him, at all.

"So, uh..."

"I just need to pay Tom some attention for a few hours, I think he's feeling left out because I'm spending all my time with the baby."

He nodded, and I could see the amusement and - thankfully - the understanding in his eyes.  "You want me to take Pup too?  I could do that for a couple of hours."

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all, sweetheart."  He put his bottle down and stood up.  "I took care of Tommy almost exclusively by myself when he was born, and he was full of piss and hellfire.  Your little sugar angel will be easy."  There was the slightest hint of a wicked grin when he pulled his buzzing phone from his pocket and quickly read a text.  "So long as you have the boy smiling by tomorrow afternoon, because I've got to pick up a friend at the airport."

A big group came in as he was pulling on his jacket so my attention was drawn away, but I suddenly remembered Kady was flying in tomorrow afternoon as well.  "Hey, you think you could pick my friend up too while you're there?  She's coming in from England sometime around noon."

A funny little smile came across his face and he nodded, but I didn't have time to think about why he found it amusing - no fewer than a dozen people had settled in at the big table in the back and were whistling for service, and by the time I came back with their orders Pop had gone.

 

An hour later I threw my towel to Ewan and told him _not_ to call us if he got swamped.  I had a neglected man to take care of at home, a man that had been looking at me with the starved look of a hungry wolf that's caught a whiff of raw meat.  But just like a wolf in the wild, he didn't want to be hand fed.

He wanted to hunt.

I wasn't sure how I was going to manage it, tired and sore and wrung out as I was...but I'd learned over the last couple of years that being with Tom was all about on the job training, so I took a deep breath and steeled my nerve as I went into the house and dropped my coat and bag by the door, unbuttoning the top three buttons of my shirt on my way down the hall.

"Anybody home - ?"

He was laying on the bed with the baby next to him, his legs drawn up so that he was kind of curled around her, talking to her and letting her hold his finger.  It was the sweetest thing I thought I'd ever seen, and I just stood in the doorway, watching them together.  Never in a million years would I have thought of Tom as a daddy...but never in a million years would I have thought of him as a husband, either - and here he was doing both, and doing a damn good job of it on both counts.

He looked up at me and smiled, his eyes traveling slowly down from my face to linger on the exposed bit of cleavage where I'd unbuttoned my shirt.

"Hey girly."

"Hey."  There was a distinct twitch to his smile when I sat down on the bed and took his hand to press it to my breast.  He didn't say anything, but his eyes went dark and he gave me a squeeze, running his thumb up over my nipple.  "Pop's going to be here soon to get Layla," I whispered, pulling his hand up to kiss his fingers.  "And then I'm yours."

The expression on his face settled somewhere between pure hard lust and something much softer, something that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the tender feelings I knew he'd always had for me behind that dark desire.  His hand moved down from my breast to my stomach, still swollen and pudgy from giving birth less than a week ago, and as he scooted over to nuzzle his face into the soft bulge I listened to him breathe and knew he was inhaling my scent.

"You've always been mine," he whispered.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Artwork of Chem!Tom (bottom row) by VivianStark <3 Other images borrowed from the web and are the property of their respective owners.


	56. Chapter 56

 

 

 

 

I fed Layla while we waited for Pop to arrive.  I knew Tom was turned on by my new shape - I wasn't sure whose body I suddenly had, I just knew it wasn't mine -  but as he watched me unbutton my shirt and pull my boob out I could see the naked lust in his eyes.  It felt weird, knowing that something as simple and normal as feeding the baby was such an intense turn on for him, and I wasn't honestly sure how I felt about it.  There was a distinct bulge in the front of his jeans as he settled in beside us on the bed and slipped his arm around me.

"I'm going to set some limits, Tom."

He was kissing the side of my head and stroking my hair, not really listening to me. "Mhnn hmm."

"Listen, I mean it.  I'm still really sore and I know you know I'm bleeding, you've been sniffing around me for days with that crazy wolf look in your eyes."

"You smell delicious."

"I'm sure.  But I don't want you, you know, _in there._  Not yet.  Okay?"

"Sure baby."

I pushed him away with my shoulder and looked at him until he finally pulled his eyes away from my chest.  "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes.  You said you're sore and don't want me _in there."_  His hand snaked down between my knees and slid up slowly toward my crotch.  "Need I remind you Layla can't understand us yet and you can say pussy?"

"I mean it, Tom.  You can do anything except that, okay?"

"Okay, babe."  He scooted down on the bed, stretching out with a grin.  "I got it."

 

 

I watched from the porch as Pop took Layla, bundled up far more than she probably strictly needed to be and buckled into her little pink car seat, and put her into his truck.  He was only taking her a couple of blocks over to Tom's old apartment, which we still owned in the hopes that Cara would live there when she was old enough to move out - but I was feeling anxious and worried already.   _Oh my god,_ I thought as he waved and climbed into the truck while Tom handed him three bottles of my milk through the window and made little bye-bye kisses toward the baby.   _We're old parents already, trying to keep our kids close._

Tom came back as they pulled away and edged up behind me, kissing the back of my shoulder.

"Pop knows what he's doing, she'll be fine."  He playfully pushed me into the house and shut the door behind me.  "You, on the other hand, I think might be in danger."

I looked at his hands, half expecting to see my collar;  we hadn't played with it in a very long time, but his hands were empty and I reached around him to check his back pockets.

"What are you looking for?"

"I dunno...my collar, maybe.  You seem like you're in the mood for something like that."

He pulled my hands out of his pockets and laced his fingers through mine.

"I wouldn't collar you right now, girly.  Not after what you've just been through."  He tugged me behind him over to the sofa and sat down, indicating with a pat to his thigh that I should sit on his lap.  "But I do want to talk to you about something I'd like to do, if you're willing."

A shiver shot through me and I swear to god, despite the deep aching soreness in my crotch and all parts associated with it, my arousal went from zero to a few hundred by the time his hand had touched his leg twice.  But the big thick pad in my underwear was a cold and disappointing reminder that the gush I'd felt, though likely _meant_ to get me ready for him, was probably mostly just blood and whatever else kind of weirdness was still emptying out of my uterus.  But my god did I want him, the whole long lean stretch of him, sitting there on the sofa looking up at me with that heavy lidded look of sweet suggestion.  He'd been so patient and understanding while I healed and something about his deeply ingrained respect for me, lent a sharp edge by his desire, was just making it that much worse.

And as quickly as that, my resolve to make him behave and respect my wishes promptly dissolved, but I didn't tell him so.  Maybe with any luck he would just be a good boy on his own.  He was reaching up to me, his hand held out palm up, waiting for me to put mine on it.  It was the way he told me without words that he might be the boss, but I was in control of the situation.

I laid my hand on his and he smiled.

"Come here, babe."

A little tug was all it took to seat me firmly on his lap and I wriggled around to get comfortable;  he waited until I was settled before brushing my hair back with his fingers and kissing my temple.  It was warm and gentle and he lingered there for a moment, breathing against my head until finally he spoke in a voice full of a new sort of hesitation I didn't think I'd ever heard from him before.  It was immediately disconcerting and I felt my warning bells go on alert.

"There's something I want to run by you," he said, the confidence and bold sexuality of just a few moments ago now completely gone.  "Something I've been thinking about for a while.  I wasn't sure how you'd take it so I thought now would be a good time to discuss it, when we can't actually _do_ it yet.  Gives you time to change your mind if you need to."

I pulled away so that I could see his face and was shocked that he seemed...worried?  No, that wasn't it.  Tom's worried face was a little half smile that got nowhere near his eyes.  This was a different look entirely.  This was...

Guilt?

_Shame?_

That in itself was frightening, the thought of Tom feeling either of those emotions.  "What is it?" I finally sucked up the bravery to ask, more out of concern for that worrisome face than any curiosity over what he was trying to say to me.  He raised an eyebrow in what I could only describe as a pleading look and slipped his arms around my waist, locking his hands together so that I was more or less trapped on his lap.  I wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but looking back on it now, I probably should have realized it was something of a subliminal hint for what was coming next.

"I...I've got this kink, Anja.  I've sort of had it for a long time but I thought if I just didn't say anything about it it would go away, but the longer I'm with you the worse it gets."  He looked away for a second, like he was trying to figure out something difficult, and I wondered what was different now - he'd been playful at first, now he seemed troubled by what he was struggling to say.

And then I realized, as I put my hands on his face and made him look at me, that he _was_ troubled.  And that worried me more than any of it, because Tom was the most open minded, un-squickable, completely shameless person I'd ever known.  For him to even hesitate in revealing a kink had to mean it was one hell of a disturbing deviation.  But I had to know what it was, and now that he'd started I wasn't about to let him stop.

"What is it?"

His breathing sped up and I held my own breath, waiting for whatever it was that could make Tom Heyworth bite his lip the way he was doing now.

"I want to try this, with you - there's a name for it, it sounds a lot better by its technical term than by its description."  He took a deep breath while my heart thudded insanely against my ribcage.   _He's actually scared to tell me.  Holy shit._

Desperate to help him, I pulled the first thing out of my head that I could think of.  "It's not blood play, right?"

"No, no - nothing like that.  That wouldn't feel right right now anyway, with you healing.  This is...more like..."  He stared at me with big soft eyes and I rubbed my fingertips across his brow to help him relax.  He'd never hesitated to invite me into his kinks before, and god knew we'd indulged in enough of them.

I made my voice as soft and comforting as I could.

"Tell me what it's called.  You always know the technical terms for things."

He stared me straight in the eyes and said quietly, _"Consensual nonconsent."_

I think I must have blinked hard and sat back, because his face fell and his hands released from around me like he expected me to get up and leave.  I wasn't sure what the words meant together, but I was well aware of what each of them meant individually.  Together they were just...strangely incongruous.  But it had an official name, so I knew it had to have a description too.

"Tell me what it is."

"It's sort of like...rape play."  Something flinched in his cheek when he said it, but his eyes were locked to my face, gauging my reaction.  "I pretend to assault you, you pretend to not want it.  You resist and I overpower you and...you know...force you."

His words shocked me, but I kept my face carefully blank because I knew, the moment he'd said it.  I knew why he had this kink, at least I thought I did.  I knew it was something he needed and I knew it was something I could give him.  But he was bothered by the _fact_ that he needed it, that much was obvious by the pained look on his face and the halting way he was speaking.  So I did my best to help him by softening it with questions that would allow him to justify his need.

"But you're not really forcing me because I consent ahead of time, right?  Is that what it means?  We'd just be pretending?"

He nodded, seemingly relieved that I wasn't condemning him.  "Exactly.  But it's real, Anja.  I won't stop unless you use your safeword."

"So I really try to get away."

"You really try."

I had a flashback to what seemed like so long ago, when he was teaching me how to defend myself against Laing, of how he'd grabbed and pinned me on the floor and acted like he was going to rape me.  That had served a very specific purpose - preparing me for a potential attack and training me to fight back and keep it from happening.  But this was different.  This time the attack would be real, and it would be him, and he would be following through.  There would be no declaring himself the victor and letting me up once I yelled uncle and starting over to make me do it right.

Something in me shivered a little at the thought of it.  An out of control, completely aggressive, absolutely unstoppable Tom...brought back into control by nothing in the world except one single word of my choosing, used completely at my own discretion...something shaky and slightly ill-feeling inside me _wanted_ that.  To agree to let him do anything he wanted, no matter how much I screamed or fought or resisted.  I'd never had a rape fantasy in my life but this was different, this was me and Tom and an agreement between us to play a perverted little game that till this very moment I never even knew existed.

"And you - you really attack and subdue me?"

"Yes.  No holding back, you fight me like you mean it.  We can set limits of course.  We _will_ set limits."

"Like what?"

"No hitting," he said, shaking his head decisively.  No surprise there, he'd always had a firm rule against that.  "I won't injure you, though I can promise you you'll have bruises when we're finished."

"You have a thing against hitting anyway."

"Yes.  I wouldn't hit you."

I chewed my lip, eyeing him carefully.  He didn't look away.

"What if...what if I made that a requirement?"

"What?"

"What if that was my deal - that you can force me, with my consent, and I'll fight you, but somewhere in all that you have to slap me or something."

A scolding look came across his face, his _you know better than that_ face, and I knew he was going to shoot down my request.  But I wanted it, and if he could ask for something so line-pushing, then I could too.

"Anja - "

"No I mean it, what if that's what I really want?  Would that ruin it for you?"

He seemed to be thinking about it, his brow furrowed and his stare directed to his hand on my knee.  He had such a hard time putting that hand on me in anything other than a loving way and for a second I rethought the whole thing.  He couldn't even spank me without having a serious inner crisis.

But I kept quiet, and after a long while he nodded.

"Deal.  But you tell me exactly how you want to be hit and that's the full extent of what I'll do.  And you can hit me."

I nodded excitedly, completely confused as to why this was so perversely thrilling to me suddenly.  "Agreed."

We exchanged a little smile with each other.  We both knew neither of us would ever deny the other anything we wanted.  Anything.

 

He held me for a while, cuddling me close to him while I thought about what had just transpired between us.  I knew he wanted silence for now, but I had to know if I was right about what this was rooted in, if it was something that had crept out of some dark corner of his troublesome past and he needed to deal with it before it hurt him somehow.  I wanted to help him with it, whatever it was.  Whatever it took.  Even letting him do _this,_ this oddly enticing thing that I felt like I should be horrified by.  I waited as long as I could stand it, then pushed away from him with my hands on his chest and put my face in front of his so he would have to look at me.

"Can you tell me why this is important to you?"

He sighed heavily, his eyes closing slowly before he finally opened them and looked at me again.

"You won't believe me if I say it's just a kink, will you?"

I shook my head and he laughed a little.  I knew him far too well and he knew it.

"I think it's a way to purge the lack of control I had over the first half of my life.  I was pushed, I got knocked around, I was forced into everything, just about every aspect of my life after Pop left was out of my hands and it was the most fucking helpless feeling."  His last few words were terse and forced, so I laid a hand on the side of his face to soothe him.

"And you need to turn that helplessness into something sexual with you in the predator role," I interrupted, taking a gamble that maybe I actually understood what he meant.  "You need to make a game out of it.  To take away its power."

His eyes went wide and his mouth opened like he was about to say something, but he ended up just nodding again.  I could tell he was surprised, and I felt a smug little sense of self pride at having maybe gotten it right.  He was so complex, so complicated, but I was finally starting to think I might understand him more than I thought I did.  It was an empowering feeling.  But I could tell it had taken a lot of courage for him to ask me for this, so I shrugged, hoping to express something like a lack of concern over the potential horrific nature of his request;  no way in hell did I want him to think I was repulsed, or turned off, or scared in any way by it.

Because in all honesty, I wasn't.

But mostly I was okay with it because I knew he really needed this.  He needed to take something horrible from his past and turn it into a game, a brutal, violent game, and assign himself the aggressor position.  He needed to purge the image in his own head of himself as victim by projecting it onto me, knowing I would trust him to do it in a non damaging way, and having it end in sexual gratification for us both.  I knew he wanted to do this and then follow it up with nurturing and aftercare and all the coddling I could take, projecting that onto me as well - his own neglected and never fulfilled need to be taken care of by those that had hurt him, the people he should have been able to trust.  He was going to test my trust of him and then reward me for giving it.

I understood it, though I was a bit surprised to realize that I did.

All this time with him, he was starting to rub off on me.

"We can do that," I said simply, sliding my hand around his neck to massage the back of his head.  "All of it.  We can do that."

There was a sigh of relief and I felt his shoulders relax, the stiffness in his posture that I hadn't really noticed till just then softening and curving to cradle me in against him.  His arms went around me and a tickle on the top of my head told me he was kissing my hair as he rocked me, whispering something that sounded like _thank you_ but that just as well could have been his breath against my scalp.

I didn't need him to thank me, though.  He'd made me a mother, given me something huge and life changing that I had asked for.  I could give him this.

 

We spent our childless night alone watching movies and kissing like teenagers on the sofa, finally letting our hands find their way under each other's clothes to rub and tease and stroke until pleasure took the will to stay awake out of us both.

And in the morning when we woke up, still on the sofa, tangled up in each other, a little bit sweaty and craving a hot shower but too drowsy and content to move, I heard him sigh against the top of my head.  It was a happy sound, and in that moment I knew I was going to love this man forever, no matter what he might ever ask of me.

 

 

Tom and I were exchanging suggestive grins at each other from across the pub when the door flew open and Kady walked in, all huge smiles and boisterous shouts of "Hey guys!!"  I dropped my tray of plates on an empty table and ran squealing across the room to her for a hug.  "Oh my god look at you!" she proclaimed, making an exaggerated curvy motion with her hands.  Our contrasting figures - her tall and thin, me short and on the mildly plump side - had always been a subject of playful mockery for us.

"Yeah, I got fat," I said proudly, patting my newly bigger belly, still pudgy with water weight that hadn't come off yet.  "Look at _you!"_

"Eh, I'm still a skinny bitch."  She looked around excitedly.  "Where's that baby?"

"She's at home with Cara, I'm about to head that way - you can come with me if you want.  Where are you staying?"  I looked over her shoulder while she hugged me again and saw Adam coming in, shaking off the rain that had started that morning and hanging his coat at the door.  He winked at me and I looked past him;  he had specifically said he had to be done babysitting by noon so he could pick someone up at the airport, but I didn't see anyone else come in with him.

Tom looked up and glanced around, obviously thinking the same thing I was.  He flashed a big smile at Kady and then turned to Pop with a questioning look.  "Didn't you have to pick up someone else?"

There were maybe twelve people in the pub and it seemed like every last one of them was suddenly interested in the conversation, like some great drama was about to erupt.  Kady was standing with her hands behind her back, fighting back a strange little smile and not looking at anyone.  Pop shook off like a dog, spraying rain out of his long hair, then came over and gave me a kiss on the cheek before heading to the bar and asking Chris for a soda like nothing was going on.

I was looking at him and Tom was looking at Kady, and as everyone else looked back and forth between the four of us, Chris put a bottle down in front of Pop and started to laugh.

And then I realized.  I remembered accidentally switching phones with him and him telling me Kady had called when he returned my phone to me.  The forty-five minute call in the incoming log.  For one brief second it all swirled around, and then it suddenly fell solidly into place.

 _Kady was the friend he'd gone to pick up._  I'd asked him to get her since he'd said he was going to the airport anyway - but she was who he was going for to begin with.

"Oh my god no way!"

Everything was silent for a few seconds until the hissing sound of the cap coming off Pop's soda bottle broke the spell and Kady sauntered over to sit down on a stool next to him.  He handed her the bottle and she took a sip of it, shooting me a sly smile as she handed it back to him and simply said, "Yep."

And Tom just stood there, a towel in one hand and a glass in the other, looking from her to me and back again with a look of complete _What am I missing here?_ across his face.  It was a thing of beauty when the slowly dawning realization finally hit him and his mouth dropped open as he stared at his father in what could only be described as mortified shock.

_"No fucking way!!"_

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Artwork of Chem!Tom by VivianStark - please don't post anywhere without a credit to the artist and a link back to this fic


	57. Chapter 57

 

 

 

It took another week for my post partum bleeding to finally stop, but the morning came when I woke up dry and stood in the bathroom staring at myself in the mirror, contemplating whether or not to tell Tom.  He'd agreed to limit our sexual activity to non-penetrative methods until I was completely done with recovery - no bleeding, no soreness, no tenderness in the nether region.  I reached down between my legs, carefully avoiding looking at my reflection as I cupped myself in my hand, pressing to see if that touchy bruised feeling was gone yet.  It was.

"Hey babe, where's the - "

I jumped, but managed to refrain from spinning around or grabbing for something to cover myself with.  It was too late anyway...Tom was standing in the doorway, staring at me with a sparkle in his eyes that was impossible to miss - or to ignore.  He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked me over with a naked sort of appreciative lust.

"So...what's going on in here?"

"I stopped bleeding."

He glanced down at my panties on the floor next to the hamper, a little smile coming to his lips.

"Is that right."

Moving up behind me, he reached around me and slid his hand down my arm till his fingers met mine between my legs.

"And what's this about?"

"I was checking to see if I'm still sore."

His fingers slipped past mine, brushing against bare skin and making me bite back a groan.

"And what's the verdict there?"

"Not sore."

"No?"

"No."

"So I could...do this...and you wouldn't flinch?"  One long finger slipped up into me and I swayed back against him, biting my lip hard.

"I might flinch but it wouldn't be because it hurts."

"Hmm.  What about if I did this - ?"

There was a quick unzipping sound, and something warm and half hard pressed against my bottom before nudging up under me.  I had it in my head to say something witty and suggestive but my brain reset to zero and that was it, I was his for whatever he wanted me for.  But he was in no hurry and lifted me up in his arms, carrying me to the bed instead of taking me there in the bathroom like I'd expected he would.

He was nuzzling his face between my breasts when Layla started to cry.

We'd been parents for nearly a month now and never once had either of us heaved a sigh of annoyance at having our romantic interludes interrupted.  Tom always stopped whatever he was doing immediately and went to get her, bouncing her or walking her or bringing her to me to feed, always attentive, always a good daddy.  This time was no different and he planted a kiss on my nipple as he got up to fetch our horrifically squalling newborn from her crib.

The sound of her distinctive _I'm hungry_ cry triggered my milk letdown and I whined as I sat up, trying to hold my boobs still with my hands as they filled rapidly;  it was painful and didn't take more than a few seconds for them to be solid and hard.  I must have been grimacing because Tom took one look at me, laid the baby down in the middle of the bed, and knelt down in front of me.

Moving my hands away from my chest, he pressed his mouth lightly to my left breast and gave it a very gentle suck.  Even that soft touch was suddenly unbearable but he put his hands on my back to hold me still and licked my nipple till it hardened enough for him to get my milk flowing;  I watched him as he suckled at me, listening to him swallow, wondering how this was so insanely erotic when just moments from now he would put the baby in his place and every bit of the raw sexual nature of it would instantly vanish.

Motherhood was by far the strangest thing I'd ever experienced.

But watching Tom enjoy his part of it - fatherhood, in all its ludicrous glory - somehow took the weird edge off it all and everything fell into the place nature had assigned it to.

 

 

I'd been thinking a lot about his request during those days when I knew I was safe;  I'd laid down the law about us having actual penetrative sex before my bleeding stopped, and he'd agreed to respect my wishes with no exceptions.  No checking to see if I'd changed my mind, no subtle coercion, no seeing how close he could get before I stopped him.  Just no, with no wiggle room.  And he'd been wonderful about it, handling me gently, always asking for my permission before he did anything.  We'd go for days with nothing but cuddling and petting, often ending in him rubbing against me, sometimes with me joining in...then his libido would escape its chains and he would ask me to press my thighs together while he thrust between them.  It felt a bit like being teenagers, playing at everything except going all the way, and though it was fun and brought us closer together in terms of intimacy and tenderness, I was starting to feel restless with the need to have him inside me again.

Which was why as soon as the baby finished nursing and he'd put her back in her little bedside crib, I laid back on the bed and spread my legs.  He turned around and looked at me, and the look in his eyes was the same one I'd seen that night not so long ago, our first night, the night he'd claimed me and I'd submitted to it with a willing, if confused, compliance that cemented the fact that I was his.

And as he stretched out between my legs and I felt his weight pushing down on me, I knew that being his was all I was ever going to want or need in this life.

 

 

He waited a week after our resumption of hardcore intimacies to bring up the subject of the consensual nonconsent again.  I'd been sort of waiting for it - he would never have mentioned it to begin with if it wasn't something he truly wanted, so I knew he'd only been quiet about it out of respect for my need to heal first.  And now that I was healed, he started giving me that look, the one that wolves give rabbits right before they chase them down and devour them.

I think I was more aroused than scared, which in itself scared me a little bit, because I knew how intense Tom could be.  Even now, settled and calm and raising two kids, he was still always one flip of the switch away from going full berserker on me.  Something told me I should brace myself for what was coming, both emotionally and physically.

Which ended up being a good idea, because that night at the pub, the wolf came out to chase the rabbit.

 

I had just gone into the kitchen to drop some plates in the sink when I felt him come up behind me.  He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled, harder than I expected;  I yelped as my head snapped back, thrown instantly off balance, but when I slammed into his chest and felt the hardness of him grinding against my backside I knew the game had begun.  But I had no idea what the progression would be, how quick or how rough, until I heard him hiss against my ear.

"You better run, girly."

 

I didn't argue, I didn't hesitate, and I didn't hold back - I didn't even think about it until after I'd done it, running for the door as Tom doubled over behind me, cursing and coughing from the unexpected elbow I'd violently jammed into his solar plexus.  He had let go of me the moment it made contact and I charged out of the kitchen, across the main lobby and into the back room as Chris stood there at the bar, looking confusedly from me to the madly swinging kitchen door and back again.  I caught a brief glimpse of him as the office door slammed shut behind me, still standing there with a glass in one hand and a towel in the other, a blank look on his face.  Behind him Tom was coming through the kitchen door, his head up, sniffing the air.

Chris stepped out of his way, and then the office door fell shut and I locked it.

 

I'm not sure where he went after that, but I'm fairly certain it was obvious to him that things were about to go weird.  The pub was closed, our last customers were on their final drinks, Cara was home with the baby and Ewan had the night off.  Maybe he ushered the last table of stragglers out and then locked up and left, I don't know - I had far bigger things to worry about than what he thought was going on because in the space of just a few seconds, the office door shook on its hinges with a resounding _bang_ that sounded like a chair hitting it.

_"Open the door, girly."_

I backed away, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.  His voice sounded genuinely scary, all low and growling and calm.  But he was using his pet name for me, and that tempered the creepiness just enough to give me some bravery.

"Go away."

He laughed, and then I heard the sound of keys jangling.   _He had a set of keys._ There was nowhere I could go in the building that he couldn't get in.

"Last chance girly.  Open the door."

There was nothing playful in his voice now and I almost obeyed him, my submissive side kicking in, a kneejerk reaction to being told what to do by the man that I belonged to.  But then I remembered the name of this particular game.  There was nothing submissive about nonconsent.  Nonconsent meant fighting him, stopping him, doing my best to disobey him even if my nature screamed for me to do as he said.

I knew he wanted me to resist.

"Fuck off!"

There was a short pause that seemed to last forever, and then a quiet _"Your choice."_

The door flew open and he stood there, tall lanky body filling the empty space, blocking my way out.  There was only the back door to the alley, and as he took a step toward me I turned and ran for it.  I got maybe two steps away before a long arm snaked around my waist and dragged me back, slamming me hard against him.

"You should have done as you were told."

I think I may have tried to scream, but a big hand was suddenly over my mouth and I was being thrown down on the sofa quicker than I could resist.  He took his hand away, sitting over my stomach straddling me, and as he tore my shirt open I knew that switch had flipped inside him and there would be no going back now.  I was committed to the game and all he could see through those darkened blue eyes was his victim, struggling enticingly under him.

And he was hard already.  Not half solid like he'd been in the kitchen, but fully erect and ready, and I could feel the heat of it through his jeans against my now bare stomach as my shirt fell aside and his hands moved to my bra.  I didn't think his eyes could go any darker than they already were, but they seemed to flash black as he yanked the straps down and grinned lecherously at my exposed breasts.

And in that moment, I looked up into a face I knew all too well - not my husband's, though.

I was looking into the face of a wild creature, and as he leaned down to run his tongue heatedly up the side of my face, something old and almost forgotten started to poke around the edges of my awareness. 

This was familiar - too familiar, but for a moment I couldn't figure out how or why.  It felt like a memory, a recollection of a dream...

And then I remembered.   _My dream._

Tom in the alley outside the pub, killing Eric, attacking me.  Biting me, forcing me...making me his.  I hadn't had that dream in a very long time, not since I'd gotten pregnant, but it suddenly all came back to me like I'd just woken up from it in a cold sweat, shaking and crying and not understanding any of it.

I finally understood.  This was it, the final part of Tom's claiming of me.  He wasn't turning himself loose on me like the dream had always made me think.  No, he was turning _me_ loose.  All my inhibitions, all my internal restraints, every last one of those little voices that still, after all this time, whispered their indignation and revulsion at the things they saw going on in my head.  The very last of grandmother's proper little lady.

Gone.

Good riddance.

I wrestled one hand out of his grip and raked my nails down the side of his neck.

"Get off me!!"

The grin that spread across his face was distinctly, undeniably the same grin from my dream, minus the sharp teeth.  But with his long dark hair falling across his face and casting shadows that obscured and altered his features, he very well could have had long fangs and I wouldn't have known until they sank into my throat.

That was a contingency I didn't feel any particular revulsion for.

"I'm going to scream."

Tom shoved one knee between my legs and reached down to open his pants.

_"Please do."_

 

From there things took a turn that I probably should have expected, knowing Tom and his tendencies toward animalistic behavior.  But it was my own sudden shift in tendencies that took me by surprise.

"Hit me."

"I don't hit."

_"I do."_

He caught my fist before it made contact with his face, ducking the other one easily.  I wasn't very skilled with punching, admittedly, but he had taught me enough that I knew how to break free from his grip by dragging his hand down to my mouth and biting it.  I heard him grunt with pain right before he stretched out on top of me and pinned me down for good.

I was still biting the back of his wrist when he pushed the bottom of my sundress up with his other hand.  And then my panties were gone, torn on one side and pushed out of the way, and as I felt his fingers slip into me I tasted blood - his blood- and knew, finally, what my dream had always meant.

I was the crying girl on the pavement, watching in horror as the wolf sated its bloodlust in the shadows...but that wasn't all.

Looking up at Tom above me, I was no longer seeing him from my own eyes.

I was looking through the eyes of the wolf.

The wolf was _me._

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

  

 


	58. Chapter 58

 

 

 

We fucked, for lack of a better word, hard and fast and brutal.  And in the end I was fighting him exactly the way he'd wanted me to - with an eye toward escape - but he overpowered me easily and my frustration at being so completely dominated turned real enough to put me into tears.  His neck was scratched raw and I was slightly dizzy from the hard shake he'd just given me when it all came to a noisy end, and when he collapsed on top of me I shoved my hand into the back pocket of his pushed-down jeans and wrapped my fingers around his keys while he was distracted by his sofa-shaking release.

I felt it, hot and wet, doing that oddly uncomfortable _sploosh_ thing where it gushes out during the final few thrusts.  And I knew the game was over, at least as far as he was concerned.  He would get up off me, take a deep breath, probably run his hands through his hair with his eyes closed...and then he would hold one hand out to me and give me that sweet little grin of his, and I would take it and all would be fine between us.

But that wasn't what I wanted.

Not at all.

Because the brutal nature of our coupling had sparked something in me that was starting to ignite, and the heat of it was making me tremble.  I knew what it was.

I needed more.

More of something that wasn't _this._

Which was why I pushed him off me once he started to sit up and bolted for the back door, clutching his keys in my hand, stumbling and cursing more like him than like myself...and by the time I heard him calling my name I was already in his car, slamming the door and starting the engine.

He could come after me if he wanted, but he'd have to do it on foot.

Which made the chase all that much more thrilling - because I knew he would do just that.

 

 

I don't really remember the drive to his old apartment, those few short blocks during which I halfway listened to the loud heavy metal music that he'd left the car radio tuned to while the other half of my hyper-awareness was focused on my own deafening heartbeat.  But I do remember parking sideways in the yard instead of the driveway, and running to the house with my nerves on fire and the tickling sensation of his come trickling down my inner thighs.

I slammed the door behind me, shaking so hard I could barely get the lock turned.

What was I doing?  This was Tom's house, I couldn't lock him out - but as I was trying to clear my muddied head enough to figure out if I should unlock it and leave quickly out the back, I heard the slamming of the car door that I'd left standing open.

The next thing I heard was his key turning in the knob that was still in my hand.

 _The spare set he kept at the pub._  Of course.  Stealing his keys had done nothing to slow him down.  I backed away from the door and was standing there with them in my hand in the defensive position he had taught me, ready to stand my ground.  I was doing all the things he'd trained me to do and I was doing them right.

I knew he'd be proud of me, but right that moment I honestly didn't care about that.  All I cared about was that shaky, hot, sweaty feeling that was crawling over my skin as I listened to him unlock the door.

It was so damn erotic I could barely remember to breathe.

 

He pushed the door open and stood there with the moonlight filtering in around him like some ghostly cryptid.  I watched him raise his head slowly to meet eyes with me, his gaze falling to the keys in my hand, threaded through my fingers like a low rent set of Wolverine claws that I had every intention of using on him.

I think he could tell by my face that I wasn't kidding.  I raised my fist in a warning gesture that I'm sure didn't look anywhere near as scary as I felt.  But right about then a car drove past and the momentary glow of its headlights showed me his face.

There was no threat there, no animalistic menace, and definitely no violent agenda.

He was done.

"Shhh, shhh baby, it's me, it's okay.  The game is over."  He held his hands out in front of him, palms toward me, to show his lack of ill intent.

But I wasn't ready for it to be over.

Not by a long shot.

_"Go get on the bed."_

The voice in my ears, issuing that non negotiable command, wasn't his.

It was mine.

His eyebrows went up but he didn't argue with me, just turned to head down the hallway to the bedroom, tugging his shirt off over his head as he went.  I took a deep breath, kicked the door shut, and followed him.

I didn't know what I was doing, I only knew that I had to satisfy that awful churning in my gut one way or another.  Because the wolf had caught the scent of blood, and it was all Tom's this time.

 

He was laying on the bed when I came in, shirt crumpled on the floor, his jeans still on but unbuttoned and tugged down just enough for me to see the top of the wolfs head tattoo on his hip.  I knew when I yanked the fly open I would find him half hard already, and there was nothing I wanted more than to sit on his cock and rub myself on it till he stiffened enough for me to ride him.

There was a ragged moan from his chest as I climbed across the bed and straddled him.

I leaned forward and pinned his arms above his head, bumping my breasts against his face and pulling away when he opened his mouth to bite at them.  I was fully clothed and intended to stay that way, for now at least.  But I wanted him naked under me, and he didn't resist when I crept down his legs, tugging his jeans down as I went.

"Arms up," I ordered when he lowered them to lay his hands on my head once my face was level with his crotch.  "Grab the headboard and don't let go."

He obeyed me immediately and I saw a spark of something in his eyes - something excited and hungry and oddly, unexpectedly, _subservient._

"Take me, Anja...I'm yours baby."

"Be quiet."

I thought I heard him snicker softly under his breath and it angered me enough that I gave him a bite - a hard nip, really - along that little seam that runs down the center of the scrotum.  His back arched and that snicker turned quickly to a groan as the tendons in his forearms tensed, gripping the headboard harder.

"Fuck...do it again, girly."

_"Be quiet!"_

When he bit his lower lip and closed his eyes tight, I knew.  I knew someone had taught him how to be dominant and in control, but before that, before all the restraint skills and the authoritative commands and the talent for giving pleasure became second nature to him, someone had taught him _this._ The Tom I was looking at, laying stretched out on his back with his hands wrapped obediently around the top rail of the headboard and a look of anticipatory bliss on his face...he'd been someone's submissive.  And it was still in him, hidden away deep under all that Alpha Male exterior.

A chill of excitement ran through me, because right that moment I saw our first night together through his eyes.  I saw what I must have looked like to him, obedient and shivering with the electric thrill of fear and desire and ready to do it all, even though I had no idea what any of it entailed.  And the only advantage he had over me now was that he knew.

As I slowly ran my tongue over his hipbone and blew softly on the warm wet trail it left behind, he shivered and I watched the muscles of his stomach tighten.

He knew what to expect.

And though I had no real clue what I was doing, I began kissing slowly up his body.

 

I'd always known Tom enjoyed pain, that the act of taking discomfort willingly negated the episodes in his past where he'd had to take it without wanting to.  I also knew he'd had it both ways, both with and without his consent - and it suddenly became very important to me that I have his permission before I proceeded.  Because I knew what had happened to him.  I knew what he'd had to do and what he'd endured willingly and what he'd suffered against his will.  And I wasn't going to fall into the long list of people who had hurt him without asking first.

He was my mate, and I loved him too much to bring tears to his eyes without settling a smile across his lips at the same time.

"What's your safe word, handsome?"

He stared up at me for a few seconds that felt like forever, before finally chewing his lower lip and giving me a little nod of approval.  He was willing to play, even though he'd called quits earlier.

"Marie."

It was my turn to stare back.  I'd never heard his safeword before, didn't even really know he had one, though I'd guessed he would if he'd been someone's sub.  But was this a new one?  Or had he chosen it long ago, back when he'd first met me?  It was my middle name, and I scrambled for a moment to remember whether or not he'd ever mentioned knowing another Marie in his life.

Had he really loved me for that long...?

He let go of the headboard just long enough to rub the back of one finger down my cheek, his eyes soft and tender and just beginning to re-darken with desire before he reached up to grab the top rail again.

I wanted to reward him for his obedience.  I wanted to nurture him and give him pleasure and let him lay back and enjoy every moment of what was coming.

But I just couldn't do that.

And when I ducked back down to his groin to kiss and lick and bite my way back up his body, sucking at his bellybutton, giving his taut nipple a harder than strictly necessary nip, finally reaching his earlobe where I slipped my tongue inside the curve of his ear, I knew by the way his tense muscles were softening under me that he was relaxed and ready to accept whatever I told him to do.

Biting his earlobe, listening to him suck in his breath and then moan at the sharp erotic shock of it, I whispered three words against his ear.

_"Defend your territory."_

 

I don't know which side of him it was that responded - his sweet obedient soul or his wild dominant nature, or possibly both - but I wasn't even off the bed yet when he did exactly what I told him to do. 

 

The next few minutes were insane and out of control and completely, undeniably unhinged.  He pushed me and I pushed back, shoving him over the foot of the bed; he reached out and grabbed my ankle and yanked my leg out from under me, and as we both scrambled to get up before the other, one of us kicked over the bedside table.

The stuff Cara had left there all fell to the floor, and in a surreal moment that had both of us looking around the room and up at the ceiling like confused dogs trying to figure out where a whistle is coming from, her iPod started blasting music.  It was an old Tom Jones song and the ludicrous incongruity of it in contrast to the circumstances put us both on momentary pause; we looked at each other for a second, our brains obviously not firing on all cylinders.  Tom's face was blank except for one side of his mouth quirked up in a twisted sort of _What the fuck?_ expression that quickly flipped to confusion when I grabbed his foot and started yanking the laces out of his boot.  I had just tugged it free and pulling the boot off his foot when he lodged his other foot against my butt and gave me a hard push.

I ended up on my face a few feet away from him, cursing and crawling away frantically because I knew he was coming after me.  When I felt him grab my ankle I turned around and threw his boot at him.  He saw it coming and ducked, but I managed to clip his shoulder with it enough to jerk my foot out of his grip and get up before he could grab me again.

And as I ran for the kitchen just one thing was scrolling through my head like the closing credits on a movie being run on fast forward.

_This_

_is_

_fun._

 

In the ensuing chase and the struggle that started once he easily caught me, every piece of furniture in the apartment was either knocked over or slammed violently into.  We broke things indiscriminately, though at the time neither of us could have cared less what was shattering next to our heads or whether or not we were going to roll over onto broken glass or if the next crash was going to be something falling on top of us.  All we cared about was getting at each other in the most primal, uninhibited, untamed way possible - and that was what we did.  At one point he stood up with me hanging off his front, my legs wrapped around his back and two handfuls of his hair gripped in my fists, and as we slammed into the wall and I heard a gutteral grunt from one of us I felt something tightening in my stomach.  It was deep and it was needy and it was dark, so dark it was almost painful...Tom was pushing against me so roughly that I could feel the wall bowing behind my back and in a burst of unlikely aggression I screamed his name while pulling his hair, hard.

 _Don't stop_ was all I could hear in my ears, even though the music was playing loudly from the other room and the wall was banging as we battered it, each hard thrust making a gradually increasing splintering sound that could just barely be heard above our cursing and moaning.

Everything about what we were doing was _loud._ I wasn't used to this.  Tom and I had shared some noisy times, but this was beyond ridiculous.  This was neighbors calling the cops kind of noisy and the idea of someone hearing us just made my gut twisting arousal that much more intense.

And as that dark, deep, needy thing in my stomach twisted and gripped at me, I figured out what it was.

"Ohh...fuck...Tom..."

He heard me, I know; I felt him raise his head from where he was gnawing a raw bruise into the side of my neck and look at me.  But something in him must have known that my calling his name wasn't a plea to stop or to slow down or to ease up in any way...because he did just the opposite.  He pounded into me harder, knowing exactly what my whining moan was about and more than willing to speed it along.

"Come on bitch pudding," he growled, hefting me up higher onto his hips as he slammed my back into the wall again.  I knew his hand was back there, protecting my spine.  Always looking out for me, even in the heat of the moment.

I heard a jangling thud and realized I'd dropped the keys behind him.  I had been holding onto them all this time, through the mock assault, through him yanking my jeans off, through all the biting and pushing and ripping the house apart to tear into each other.  I had held them in a deathgrip through all that, but now, sitting on his hips with my legs around his back and my torn panties hanging off one thigh and the wall slowly giving way behind me, I let go of them and let them drop.

Something in my brain accepted the sound of them hitting the floor as an unconditional surrender, and in that moment I let go of everything else too.  I let go and just handed it all back to Tom.

The way it was meant to be.

The way it had always been.

The way it would always be.

 

 

When I started to come, it was rough and violent and it almost hurt it was so intense.  Tom felt it; he got that look on his face, the one that told me he could feel my muscles tightening up on him, and when his grin turned wicked and he started talking dirty to me it was all I could do to just keep holding on.

Because this was us...this had always been us, from the very beginning, when he'd walked me home and started waking me up to what I truly was inside.  He'd always called me his good girl, but now I knew why that particular term of endearment always held an undertone of sarcasm, hidden deep beneath the adoring praise.  He'd always meant it, but not necessarily in the way I thought.

And now I knew.

He'd finally exposed the rest of me to the light.  All the dark things that had been hidden without me even realizing they were inside me.  Here they all were, suspended sweaty and trembling between him and the hallway wall.

He looked into my face and his eyes were so bright, so clear, so brilliantly feverishly _blue_ , I thought I'd never seen that color before and felt like I might never see it again.  Because this moment was special, it was unique and unequaled and there would probably never be another like it for so long as either of us lived.

I was okay with that.  I got to see it once.  It was enough.

And when he shifted me on his hips so that the shaft of his cock rubbed harder against me as he pushed in, I let go of everything that was left.  All my inhibitions, all my self conscious hangups, all my misconceptions of what _good girl_ meant.  I let it all go, and when Tom closed his eyes I knew he was acknowledging its departure.

I'd always been his...but now I was more than that.  We were on a different level, and nothing in my entire life had ever been like this.

I trusted this man with everything.

He stopped thrusting for just a moment and ignored it when I groaned in protest - I was so close I was already twitching against his belly, the muscles inside me taking over in an attempt to tug him further into me - and when I lifted my hand to his face he reached up and entwined our fingers.  His ring tapped against mine, making that high pitched clinking sound that had always made me so happy.

 _"Marie,"_ he whispered.

 

It took me a moment to realize he was stopping us.  He wasn't murmuring my name, he was saying his safeword - even though he was the one in control.

I nodded and rubbed my hand across his forehead, moving his hair out of his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

He smiled, and it was a sweet, gentle smile that looked more like a little boy coming in sweaty from playing outside than a wolfish alpha male slowly slipping his still-stiff cock out of a sloppy wet women perched on his hips.  He lowered me slowly to my feet and hooked a finger under the one functioning leg hole of my ripped panties, pushing them down till they fell to the floor around my ankle.  I could feel his hand shaking and saw that mine were too.

I laid one on his back as he bent over and scooped me up, lifting me into his arms and heading down the hall with me.  He was taking me back to the bedroom.  And as Tom Jones went silent and Bill Withers took over, I stared at the splintered and broken section of wall paneling that had done its best to support our frenzied weight against itself and wondered, a bit blankly, which of us was going to finally come first.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


End file.
